When the Guilt Subsides, the Night Begins
by justapictureframe
Summary: The brothers stumble across two sisters while on a hunt, one of whom looks to be their biggest suspect. But what if there's true evil at work here? FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. Dean&OFC and Sam&OFC. Set during season two.
1. Initiation

** Full Summary: **The brothers stumble across Kieryn and Emerson O'Riley, two average sisters, while on a hunt. But there's a sticky agenda to their meeting; Kieryn's been caught red handed (literally) and is the boys' number one suspect. But when the cards are turned for what looks to be the worst, Sam and Dean must help rid Kieryn of a curse, all the while helping her to resist the arms of evil as it tries it's best to claim her.

_Hey there everybody. I'm a new writer to this site, this is my first story posted here and my first ever Supernatural fanfiction. I'm hoping like hell that people do read this and enjoy it, because I've been working super hard on this and love it so far!_

_**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the characters of Supernatural. That means Sam, Dean, Bobby Singer or any other characters from the TV show are not my own, and I am merely using them for creative purposes. I have added two original female characters to counter with the Winchester boys, and these characters are totally original, along with the plot line, etc._

_Anyway, if you read this, could you please leave a comment/review or something just so that I know someone is reading it and will therefore feel motivated to post. God, I'm super nervous here. Hope you people enjoy._

**CHAPTER ONE.**

_Black._

It was the first word that registered in Kieryn's mind as she awoke. Everything was _black_. She rubbed at her eyes with closed fists, etching them open again as specks of light began to filter in through the small gaps between her squinted lids. The white luminance came in small, blurred circles, repeated in a long line above her, as far as her eye could see. Through the black that surrounded them, the lights shone out as though they were reaching for her, beckoning for her to follow.

Yet she couldn't move, could only watch as the lights danced above her in the black of the night, now as though they were taunting her, laughing at her.

A loud screech in the distance broke the silence that was engulfing her, awakening her senses along with it. Towards her sped two more specks of white light, growing larger and larger in diameter as they approached with incredulous speed. She could hear the revving of a car's engine, the protesting squeals of tyres along the tarseal road, the sounds growing louder with each prolonged moment until she knew it was too late.

Kieryn ducked her head in that instant, screwing her eyes closed and rocking herself forwards, bracing herself for the inevitable blow as the car would soon hit her side.

"STOP!" Sam screamed over the pulsing music, instinctively reaching over his elder brother in the drivers seat and yanking the steering wheel towards him. The car fled to the right immediately and Dean managed to slam the brake pedal downward before the hood of the car hit one of the tall lampposts lining the pathway. Dean turned the keys in the ignition hastily, causing to car engine to judder to a halt.

"What the hell, Sam?" He chided, gaping at his younger brother in the passenger seat who was hurrying to unclip his seat belt.

Sam merely ignored his brother's interrogating glare, flinging the car door open and racing over to the small frame that remained motionless in the centre of the road. Once he was within a metre of the figure, his pace slowed to a vigilant stroll and he crouched over onto one knee in front of it. He was certain now that it was a young woman, judging by the slenderness of her hunched over body and the straight, dark wisps of hair that shied her face from his view.

"Are you alright?" He asked cautiously, his voice soft and assuring so as not to alarm the girl with his sudden presence. He heard her jagged breathing slow to a more natural, consistent pace and waited as her head etched up, the girl's long strands of hair falling away from her face one by one until her widened eyes met with Sam's in a fearful glance.

Kieryn watched the man in front of her hesitantly, her bloodshot eyes widened with the innocence she possessed and the fear that was filing it's way into her brain. The man was tall, she knew that even despite the fact that he was crouched over. He was definitely young, too, for no lines creviced his handsome face. A chocolate brown mop of hair laid upon his head, his bangs falling into his eyes the slightest.

The sound of boots scuffing against the darkened pavement caused her gaze to falter from the man before her to the source of the interruption, her eyes falling upon another man who was approaching from behind the first man. His piercing gaze was fixed upon Kieryn as though he sensed that any second she may disappear right before him.

"Possessed?" Dean asked almost inaudibly as he etched closer to his younger brother, making sure to maintain his gaze locked upon the stranger in front of them. Dean knew from experience that though she looked totally innocent, she could be anything but that. He didn't want to go welcoming her with open arms only to have this whole meeting turn out to be a trap, or even just a nasty coincidence. Dean didn't run risks like that.

Sam shook his head, "I don't think so," he muttered, uncoiling his arm, stretching it out in front of himself toward the girl. Dean instinctively rushed forward, kicking his brother's arm away from the stranger rashly, gripping his gun in his back pocket.

"_Christo._" Dean uttered, and when the girl's blank expression turned to obvious confusion he sighed, but remained with his hand clutching his silver 45 behind his back.

Sam reached out once more, taking the girl's hand in his own and helping her stand shakily. From what he could see she didn't have any trouble with standing, giving him the relieving impression that she wasn't injured, only frightened.

"What's your name?" Dean demanded, not bothering to hide his lack of trust in the stranger. _Trust_ had already nearly gotten he and his brother killed on numerous occasions and he wasn't willing to let that happen again. His grip on the gun handle tightened.

"Kieryn." She muttered, giving the second man a quick once over to accompany her reply. He was shorter than the other man, but of a larger build, his shoulders tensed wearily, his arm clutching something unknown to her behind his back. His short, sandy hair was spiked to a point and he wore a staunch, unyielding expression upon his face.

"Well, Kieryn, I'm Dean and this is my brother, Sam. Nice to meet you, but we've got to be off." With those words spoken, Dean grabbed his brother by the collar of his brown jacket, proceeding to lead him back toward the sleek black car parked on the footpath.

"Dean!" Sam shook away from the elder siblings hold, "we can't just _leave _her here!" Shoving past his brother, Sam beckoned to Kieryn, a reassuring smile fashioning his face. "Come on. We'll take you home."

Kieryn hesitated at first, wondering whether or not to trust the strange men who had discovered her. Kieryn lived in a small town, one where everybody knew each other and no one went unnoticed; but Kieryn was certain she'd never seen either of these men in her life.

Despite her brain telling her to run, far away, Kieryn followed the first man, whom to her new knowledge went by the name _Sam_. But once she stepped into the glaring blaze of a streetlamp's light stream, Sam let out a gasp, staggering away from her as though she had just shape shifted before him. Which she hadn't, of course. That was absurd.

Dean pushed his brother to the side immediately, snapped his 45 from his back pocket and aimed it at the girl, all in the matter of a second.

"You can't shoot her, Dean." Sam muttered urgently from behind him, "she could be innocent. We need to talk to her."

Kieryn stared at the barrel of the gun, only just registering that it was pointed directly toward her. Her heartbeat began to accelerate as she glanced down at her attire. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the bloodied clothing that clung to her body, the dark red stains unmistakeable against the light grey of her singlet.

She looked back up at the two men frantically, scrambling to form words upon her lips, though no sound left her mouth. "I didn't-I-" She stuttered across the words, though no audible explanation followed them. "My… sister," she said finally, simply, "I need to find her."

Sam exchanged a weary glance with his brother, mentally arguing with him through merely the assertive look in his eye, before he reached out and grabbed Kieryn's arm, gently leading her toward Dean's Impala.

"Where do you live?" Sam asked once they were all seated inside the car, shooting a glance in the rear view mirror to catch a small glimpse of the girl seated silently in the back seat. She looked totally traumatized, her dark eyes upholding a blank, terrified gloom to them, surrounded in dark circles that seemed dug into the flesh of her pale face. He noticed now, in the blaze of the car's interior lighting, that her hair was a shade of natural auburn brown, tinged orange, reaching a few centre metres past her shoulders in straight wisps

"18 Salisbury Road." She replied quietly, letting her eyelids fall closed as her head rested back against the car's black leather interior. She was exhausted and cold, but for the most part, confused. The last thing she remembered was getting into bed at 9:30pm, and now here she was, in a car with two complete strangers, with no clue to how she ended up on the middle of that strange road in the first place.

Not to mention she was covered head to toe in someone else's blood.

Kieryn refused to let the idea that she had hurt someone enter her head. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. Now she just needed to find out what that explanation was, so that she would never have to think about this night again. But before she could do that, she had to get home to her sister.

"You think she's responsible for the murders?" Dean hissed, sending his brother a sideways glance before refocusing his gaze on the road ahead.

"I don't know." Sam mumbled, truthfully, "she doesn't exactly look the type," with this he stole another glance in the rear view mirror, noticing her lids were now tightly closed and a content smile graced her lips. Sam couldn't at all picture such an innocent face yielding the capability of taking the life of another. She couldn't have been any older than 22, Sam concluded, after studying her calm face in the mirror for a few extra moments. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think I am, B2!" Dean grinned sarcastically, causing Sam to sigh in annoyance at his brother's immaturity during a serious matter.

"We need to find out where all that blood came from." He stated, deciding to ignore his brother's last remark.

"Talking to the witness would be a good start," Dean mused, making sure to speak quietly so as not to let their new_ companion_ overhear.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, though the uncertainty he held shone through with the word. "But first, I think we ought to go back to where we found her. See if we can pick up any trails."

Dean nodded slowly, processing through Sam's method. "Good plan. We'll check that out tonight, then question her in the morning," Dean beckoned behind him with a backward nod of his head, "I don't think we'd get much out of her tonight." With those words, Sam's gaze flicked back up to the rear view mirror to see the girl seemingly sound asleep, her mouth agape the slightest, her legs pulled up to her chest with her chin resting between her knees.

Dean's car swerved to the right to park along the curb outside a small, suburban looking home. It was a grand, double story house with white horizontal panelling running the entire length of the front walls, glowing an eerie yellow from the glare of a streetlight lining the curb.

Sam slid out of the passenger side, etching open Kieryn's door and hesitating before deciding against waking her. She appeared so peaceful in her sleep, and Sam didn't want to be the one to deprive her of that peace. He carefully reached over the petite girl, unlatching her seatbelt before scooping her limp frame into his arms.

Dean had already rung the doorbell by the time Sam made it up the short pathway to the front porch, where the front door was already being pulled ajar.

"This belong to you?" Sam asked with a small smile, watching as Kieryn's eyes flickered open and a look of sheer confusion crossed her features. Sam set her down on the ground hurriedly, crossing his arms over one another.

The girl in the doorway had wavy, honey blonde hair, a petite figure and stood a few centre metres taller than Kieryn. She appeared to be the older of the two, icy blues eyes possessing an air of maturity and knowledge her sister's did not. "Oh, thank _God_!" The girl behind the door exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Kieryn's small frame. A weary smile crept onto her face as she examined the two men before her over her sister's shoulder.

Dean smirked, raising his eyebrows, "actually, just call me-"

"_Dean._" Sam warned through clenched teeth, punching his brother in the shoulder roughly. Anyone could have easily mistaken the hit as a playful gesture, but Dean, being on the receiving end, felt the full force of Sam's punch and therefore knew the real intensity behind it.

Dean scowled, glaring at his brother for cutting his witty remark short.

The two girls pulled away from each other and a look of pure horror formed upon the older girl's features as she noticed for the first time the state of Kieryn's bloodied clothing. "Get inside." She mumbled, to her sister's ears only, and Kieryn obliged, sending Sam and Dean a small smile and an abrupt head nod before disappearing inside the house.

"I'm Sam." Sam introduced himself, ignoring the odd manner of the sister's reunion. He knew most people should freak out at the sight of their sister covered head to toe in blood, but the blonde remained completely calm. Too calm, for Sam's liking. "Dean," as he said this he beckoned toward Dean, who grinned instantly as the blonde's gaze fell upon him.

She returned the smile, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, "Emerson. You guys cops or something?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a comical glance before Dean replied, "something like that."

"We'd like to talk to your sister again in the morning, if that's alright." Sam did his best to sound sincere.

Emerson nodded, "of course. Whatever you guys need," with this, a lopsided smile graced her lips as she eyed the two men cautiously.

"Well, that was odd." Sam uttered as he and Dean departed the property.

"Yeah," Dean murmured, "a little too _Stepford_, don't you think?"

Sam snickered lightly, sliding his tall figure into the passenger seat of his brother's car, "you've used that line before, Dean. It's not funny anymore."

"Damn it." Dean muttered, twisting the keys in the ignition to allow the car to splutter to life, before pulling the car away from the curb and driving back in the direction they had came merely moments before.


	2. Investigation

**CHAPTER TWO**

"She definitely came from this direction."

Dean turned abruptly to the sound of his brother's voice, curiosity crossing his mind as he spotted Sam a few metres away, his darkened figure holding up an object that Dean couldn't fully visualise in the dull lighting of the abandoned street. Etching closer, Dean could just make out the stainless steel blade that shimmered in the light of a nearby streetlamp.

"More blood?" Dean asked, though the answer was obvious.

Sam nodded, holding the knife up with the cuff of his jacket, careful not to leave any prints behind. "All over the handle and blade. Looks like we've got ourselves a murder weapon."

"Now where's the body?" Dean muttered under his breath, and from the corner of his eye he could see Sam settling the knife back into the small shrub where he found it.

Sam watched the hand on his watch tick past midnight before dropping his arm back to his side limply, following his brother further down the darkened road, scanning the premises along the way. Spots of blood trailed the concrete path, leading straight up the pathway to a simplistic double story, brick-clad house. The front door gaped open as though beckoning for the whole world to enter.

"Better than breadcrumbs." Dean mumbled lightly, eyeing the patterns of blood droplets as he led the way toward the front door of the house. He sent a quick glance down the street, looking both ways for possible onlookers before disappearing through the door frame. Sam scanned the street one last time before following suit of his brother, digging a flashlight from his jacket pocket to light the entrance of the home.

The brothers were welcomed instantly with a vile stench that flared their nostrils, the both of them cringing and simultaneously covering their noses with the sleeves of their jackets.

"That's nasty." Sam muttered, covering his mouth as well so as not to inhale the overpowering fumes.

"Smells like we've got ourselves a decomposing dead body!" Dean grinned, clapping his hands together in mock excitement. In the dull light of Sam's flashlight, Dean could see Sam shaking his head slowly before he spoke.

"Wow Dean, since when are you so heartless?" Despite his harsh words, Sam's tone was facetious as he led their decent through the hallway of the house.

"Since when are you so bitchy?" Dean countered, grinning mischievously despite the fact that Sam wouldn't see it.

Sam sighed heavily, muttering "jerk," under his breath, though not loud enough for the other man to overhear. From what they'd seen of the house interior so far, it was completely bare of furniture, all evidence of someone residing there eliminated entirely by the cobwebs that gathered in corners of the ceiling and the thick layer of dust wafting in the atmosphere.

As the distinct smell of rotting flesh grew stronger, Sam hesitated before a closed door to his left, glancing back at his brother and beckoning with a flick of his hand toward the multiple specks of blood visible upon the linoleum flooring beneath him, the splotches leading underneath the wooden door beyond their visibility.

Dean fastened his hold on his gun, pointing it toward the closed door and nodding to Sam in ready. Sam twisted the door handle hesitantly before swinging the door ajar, instantly being hit with the unmistakeable stench of death.

Dean cussed incoherently, dropping his gun to his side as he glanced around the room. Blood was stretched over the floor and walls like a messy paint job, splatters of it reaching each corner of the room. But the most disturbing sight of all was that of a man's battered body laying sprawled stomach-up over the floor in the centre of the room, drowned in a pool of dark red liquid surrounding his lifeless figure. His throat was slit methodically, blood seeping from the open wound and soaking his finger length hair, his eyes gaping wide with fear and mercy. Aside from the lone corpse, the room was eerily bare, and that made Dean shudder involuntarily.

"Oh God." Sam mumbled, cringing and turning away from the dreadful sight. Something in Sam didn't want to believe for a second that a girl as innocent looking as Kieryn could have committed a deed so evil, so heartless. But all the cards pointed straight to her as suspect number one, and Sam knew that there would be no convincing Dean otherwise.

Dean could be stubborn as hell sometimes.

"Hey Sam, take a look at this." Dean was crouched down on one knee beside the corpse, and Sam approached from behind to get a peek at what had his brother so enthralled. A gaping hole tore into the man's chest, blood pouring from the wound in rivers of sticky liquid. But what caught Sam's attention most was what his eyes couldn't seem to locate; the man's heart.

"Heart ripped out?" Sam asked, though he could see the answer clear enough for himself.

"Cut out. With a knife. Just like the other murders." Dean concluded, remembering the coroner's report for the other victims that he'd read just a few hours earlier. "Not exactly a twenty year old girl's usual M.O."

"Yeah." Sam nodded, stepping over the corpse before him and scanning the room for any possible clues or evidence left behind. "Definitely not a werewolf then, huh?" A surge of relief flew through Sam as he said this. Kieryn _wasn't_ some bloodthirsty half-wolf creature. That was definitely a satisfying revelation.

"I've never heard of a werewolf using a knife," Dean garbled sarcastically, "so I guess not."

Sam considered his brother's remark, strolling over to the open door they had came through, dodging over splashes of blood on the floor along the way. Scraping his index finger over the metal doorknob, a yellow, powdered substance came in contact with his finger and he lifted it to his face for a better inspection. A lone chuckle escaped his mouth as he examined the substance. "And we have a hit."

Dean glanced up at his brother's tall figure, noticing that Sam was waving his index finger around in the air, smirking knowingly. "What is it?"

Sam took one last glance at the yellow powder before answering his brother's inquiry in full certainty. "Sulfur."

"Kieryn!" Emerson shook her sister's sleeping figure roughly, uncoiling her grasp on Kieryn's shoulders as a pair of bedazzled eyes emerged through her previously closed lids.

The two men that had bought her sister home to her had left somewhat over an hour ago, and Kieryn had dropped dead the second her head hit the pillow, leaving Emerson totally answerless to her sister's happenings and whereabouts over her disappearance merely hours before. She had fought against the urge to wake her sister until her burning curiosity had got the best of her and her impatient reputation had shone through.

Kieryn glanced up at her sister's face in the dim lighting. "What?" She mumbled, barely a sound escaping her mouth. Kieryn already knew exactly what her sister was going to ask next, and dodging the question with stupid sleepy remarks was only going to stall her for so long.

"What happened?" Emerson demanded, watching with daunting blue eyes as her sister sat upright in her bed, dropping her head back against the headboard with a loud sigh.

"I don't know. Went to bed at half nine, then the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the middle of some random street halfway across town."

"Covered in blood?"

"Covered in blood." Kieryn reiterated in assurance of her sister's statement. She huffed out another loud sigh, sweeping a hand through her auburn bangs as a notion to distract her sister from her jagged breathing, her shaking hands. Kieryn was _scared_, but she didn't want to let her sister see that. If anything, she had to stay strong, composed, for her sister's sake. And for her own.

"What if you hurt someone again this time, Kieryn?" Emerson's words were stifled by the sobs hitching in her throat at the memory that threatened to break through to the surface.

Kieryn was shaking her head at the terror of the idea. "I couldn't have," she mumbled, grasping her sister's hand in her own and squeezing it lightly, "I couldn't have."

"I knew it!" Dean exclaimed, slamming a fist down on his denim-clad knee before scrambling to stand upright, "the bitch is possessed!"

"If she was, don't you think she would've at least covered her tracks?" Sam's mind was ticking through all the logical justifications to why on earth a demon would practically lead them straight to it's crime scene. He couldn't conjure up one. "I mean, Dean. This isn't exactly typical demon behaviour and you know it."

"I don't care _why,_ Sammy. Let's just get that demon son of a bitch before it kills someone else!" With those words spoken, Dean swiped a clenched fist downward through the air in a gesture of assertion, before storming off back down the hallway the way they came.

Sam glanced around the room one last time before following suit of his brother. Something wasn't adding up here and Sam knew it, he just couldn't place his finger on what exactly it was that was bothering him. This whole case was bothering him, for a start. But Sam knew it wasn't just the chill of the Michigan winter breeze that was unsettling him so greatly.

Pushing aside his troubling thoughts, Sam shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets, making a direct beeline across the street toward Dean's car. The shiny black paint job shimmered in the light beam of a nearby street lamp, and inside the car Dean's figure was easily visible, his head bobbing up and down rhythmically. Sam could hear the thrumming of his brother's car stereo 10 metres away.

_So much for being inconspicuous_, Sam thought with a chuckle. Sliding his tall frame into the passenger seat, he shot his brother a curt nod, as Dean pressed in the clutch with a touch of acceleration. The car engine slurred to life and Dean forced the accelerator to the floor, speeding off down the darkened street.

"So we're just gonna leave the body there and wait til it gets found?"

Dean nodded, his eyes fixated upon the shady road ahead of him. "That's the plan."


	3. Accusation

**CHAPTER THREE**

Emerson awoke with a start. Flinging herself forward so she sat upright, she examined her surroundings fearfully, her breath slowing to a more natural pace as she realized she was safe within her own bedroom.

Without hesitation, Emerson swung her legs over the side of her mattress to meet the cream carpet beneath them. She shoved her bedroom door ajar, strolling directly down the modern hallway to come to an abrupt halt at her sister's bedroom entrance.

Kieryn watched from her lying position as her door was pushed open and her sister's figure slowly emerged from behind the doorframe. She abruptly dropped her lids to a close, ultimately ignoring her sister altogether. Perhaps if she pretended to be sleeping long enough, she would be left alone.

"Kier, I'm not stupid." _Perhaps not._

"I'm tired." Kieryn mumbled, her words muffled by the pillow pressed beneath her face. She made no further effort to acknowledge her sisters presence, screwing her eyes up desperately to try and fall back into sleep's comforting embrace. But that attempt didn't last long, as Kieryn soon felt a pair of hands curl around one of her shoulders and before she could even moan in protest, she was lying stomach up on the bed, the unyielding face of her sister hovering above her.

Kieryn let out a loud groan. "Em!" She growled, covering her eyes with her arm to shield them from the blinding light pouring in through the now open curtains, "go away."

"No." Emerson stated staunchly. "We need answers, Kieryn."

"There's no answers to give, Em! I just had another of those sleep walking episodes. Probably tripped and got a bleeding elbow or something. That's all."

"A scrape on the elbow doesn't account for all that blood." Emerson spoke calmly, grabbing the blood stained t-shirt that laid on the carpeted floor beside the bed and holding it up in Kieryn's view to reinforce her previous statement. The formally grey singlet was now drenched tip to end with the blood of whom Emerson believed in almost full certainty was not her sister. "Besides, what the hell do you think happened? Your subconscious just decided to take a 20 minute stroll across town in the middle of the night? Needed some fresh air?" Emerson's calm tone turned to a mocking sneer. She was sick of begging for answers. None were ever given. Typically enough, Kieryn claimed every time she was dragged home again that she couldn't remember a thing. Emerson believed her of course, for Kieryn _was_ her sister after all, but the strain of not knowing what was really going on with her sister was overwhelming.

Most of all, Emerson was scared out of her wits that if what was happening ever came to the point of life or death, she mightn't be able to save her sister. Hell, it might be at that point already. She had no way of knowing at that moment.

"I don't know." Kieryn murmured finally, after a long stretch of silent contemplation. "All I know is that my subconscious is scaring the freaking crap out of me lately."

"I hear yah," Emerson uttered, before her expression switched to an awfully serious one. "Those guys that bought you home last night. What if they link you to anything?"

Kieryn crossed her arms over one another as she eyed her sister sceptically, "what do you mean, _anything_?"

"I mean… a crime. Or something."

Kieryn's mouth fell open in shock as her sister's words began to sink in. There was _no_ way she could have done anything. Even in her sleep walking state, she couldn't believe she would ever have the capability of _hurting_ someone. Not again, anyway. Kieryn could barely hurt a _fly_, let alone a living, breathing human being. "No way," she was shaking her head furiously, trying to rid the thought from her head altogether.

"They said they'd come around to talk to you this morning," Emerson mumbled, almost incoherently, "but I don't think it's a good idea that you talk to them right now."

"No." Kieryn refused bluntly, pushing her bed covers aside and sliding off of the bed. "I need to. Just to set things straight."

"We should've done this last night." Dean mumbled hastily, slamming down the car's brake pedal and switching off the engine.

"Dean, we couldn't just go barging in there at one in the morning. What if we're wrong?" Sam; always with the rational thinking. He glanced over at his glaring brother in the driver's seat before clicking the passenger door open and stepping out into the chill of the morning air.

Sam pressed the doorbell inward and waited as the sound of chimes rang from behind the closed door before him. Dean grumbled something incoherent that Sam chose to ignore and the two of them stood in silence, Dean fidgeting with the top button of his white undershirt, Sam with the sleeve of his navy jacket.

The sound of shuffling footsteps and muffled voices came from inside the house and within merely a second, the front door was swung open to reveal the older sister from the night before. Emerson. Her pale skin was flushed red, blades of honey blonde hair swept across her face and sticking out various different directions. Her body was wrapped tight in a snug, red _Nike_ jumper and a pair of slim grey jeans. She stood silent for a moment as the brothers exchanged a short glance, before her breathing evened out finally and she looked up to meet the inquiring gaze of the two men, combing through strands of blonde hair with her fingers.

"Hello there." She grinned hesitantly. To say they'd caught her off guard would be an understatement. In all honesty, she hadn't been expecting them until at least 10. Not a whole hour beforehand.

"We were hoping to speak to your sister, if that's alright," Sam spoke calmly and assuredly, something he'd always been better at than his brother. Instantly the girl's worried expression eased the slightest until she smiled once more and nodded, stepping aside to allow them entrance into the home.

Immediately upon entering, the boys were hit with a blanketing warmth, a huge contrast compared to the biting chill from outside.

"Kieryn!" Emerson called out as she led the two men through the bright hallway. Sam noted the extravagant light wooden panelling that stretched horizontally down the entire length of the hallway, the numerous rare paintings that adorned the walls and the classic antique furniture that seemed to occupy every room they passed, wondering how two women in their twenties could possibly afford the upkeep on such a grand home. Before he could contemplate this any further, they had reached the end of the long hallway where the bottom of a wide staircase stood. A fiery headed figure etched down the steps one at a time, her eyes covered by the straight bangs that fell over her face.

Upon reaching the three others at the bottom of the staircase, Kieryn gave each of the men a confident smirk before leading the way into the nearby living room, plopping herself down on one of the brown leather sofas in the centre. Sam and Dean followed suit, together taking a seat on the sofa adjacent to Kieryn, as Emerson sat down next to her sister.

"I'm thirsty," Kieryn said after clearing her throat, "some drinks, yeah, Em?" She looked toward her sister expectantly, telling her with an intensity in her eyes to leave her alone for a moment.

Emerson understood immediately, yet hesitated in getting up. Despite her sister telling her a thousand times over that she would be okay, Emerson was still weary. If these two men who claimed to be cops were suspicious of her sister's activity the previous night-and who wouldn't be, considering she had been covered in blood and lying in the centre of the goddamn road-then they could convict her of something that in her heart Emerson knew Kieryn could not have committed. Yet Kieryn wouldn't consider for one second the possibility that these two men could mean trouble. A lot of it.

She huffed out a sigh of defeat finally, pushing herself off of the sofa and making her way toward the exit arch of the living room. Turning back to face the guests, she asked, "you guys want anything?"

"No thanks."

"Got any pie?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed quietly, hitting his brother in the shoulder.

"Never mind. Glass of water, thanks." Dean grumbled, watching as the blonde at the doorway shot him a light grin before disappearing out of the room.

"So, cops, huh?" Kieryn asked as soon as her sister had left. Her tone held a pinch of mockery and disbelief that Sam picked up on, yet chose to ignore regardless.

"FBI, actually." Dean said, raising his eyebrows the slightest, "now if you don't mind, we'd like to ask-"

"You don't look like cops," Kieryn mused, interrupting Dean's sentence as she leant back into the leather plush, twirling a lock of orangey-auburn hair in her index finger.

Dean grumbled lightly in obvious frustration. "Yeah? Well, we are." As he said this, he began shuffling through the pocket of his leather jacket for his wallet which held his fake I.D.

Kieryn turned to Sam, her blue eyes piercing and relentless, "and I thought you said he was your _brother. _I'm pretty sure they don't let family work together on the force."

"I believe I said _partner._" Sam lied, remembering back to their introduction the night before. Though he knew what he'd said, he was certain that if he gave off the same confidence that Kieryn seemed to now suddenly possess, she would eventually back down and give them the answers they needed.

"Nah ah." Kieryn protested with a cheeky grin, "you definitely said brother."

"Here." Dean interrupted the bickering suddenly, holding up his wallet to Kieryn's face, allowing her to examine the I.D. held within the plastic slip.

"John Bonham, huh?" Kieryn questioned as she examined the print. "So you're the drummer for Led Zeppelin now? No wonder my sister let you in. She's a sucker for musicians, you know that?"

Sam snickered slightly. This girl was definitely feisty, and Sam admired her ability to leave his brother completely awe struck with merely two sentences. Even if the fact that she could see straight through their masquerade left them in one hell of a deep hole.

Kieryn smiled with contentment, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned deeper into the backrest of the couch. "You're a liar and a fraud… but at least you listen to the good stuff! Right?" Her tone reeked of sarcasm and Dean couldn't help but glare at the confident red head before him.

"Who _are _you?" Dean asked angrily, leaving no room for beating around the bush. He'd had it; now it was time for answers.

"Kieryn Riana O'Riley, beloved youngest daughter of Jasper and Marie O'Riley. But I think the better question here is; who are _you?_" With this she glanced back at Sam too, who was seated now at the edge of the sofa, elbows resting upon his knees as his gaze switched from Kieryn to Dean, Kieryn to Dean.

Sam chuckled quietly, standing from the couch, catching Dean's annoyed expression and repressing another laugh. Seeing Dean so angered was just too entertaining. "I'm going to go help your sister with those drinks." He shot Dean a look that seemingly told him to get on with what they came here for, hoping he would comprehend. Dean nodded and grumbled something incoherent as Sam's figure disappeared through the wooden archway that served as the living room's entrance and exit.

Dean turned back to face the girl. "We know you killed that man." He blurted out, unable to stop the words that flowed from his mouth, thick with hostility. He was done with the small-talk. It was now or never; and he chose now.

The cocky smirk evaporated from the girl's face in that instant, replaced with obvious fear and disbelief that masked her entire presence; her posture tensing, face hardening, hands aquiver with an identical pace to her newly chattering teeth.

"I didn't kill _anyone._"

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><p><em>hey hey hey. :) Thanks to those of you who've left reviews, seeing them made me so pleased. If you're reading, then I would absolutely love it if you left a quick little review too, because it really does motivate me to write more and more! I'd love to hear your opinions about this so far and whether you have any queries or tips to help improve my writing. I've just finished writing chapter 17, so I'm pretty ahead with this one and I have got so much more in store for you all with this story. So stay tuned! Next chapter will be up in two days. :D<em>


	4. Suspicions

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Sam exited the living room of the house, leaving his brother and Kieryn alone. It was a risky move, considering Dean looked about ready to rip the petite auburn haired girl's head right off of her body, but Sam gratefully took the opportunity to explore the rest of the house to hopefully pick up as much helpful evidence as possible. Glancing back down the hallway instinctively, he was satisfied that the coast was clear and began tiptoeing his way up the staircase beside the living room's entrance.

Greeted with another long hallway, Sam made his way across the second story of the house, peeking through open doors until he found one that looked to be a bedroom. Not offering a second of hesitation, he pushed the door ajar, hurriedly scanning over every surface possible. He knew exactly what he was searching for; Sulfur. But he couldn't visualise one speck of the yellow substance anyway within the room.

Sighing, he exited the room, etching further down the hallway until he found another bedroom, performing the same speedy inspection as he had done previously. The voice in the back of his mind was telling him he wouldn't find a thing, yet despite it, Sam continued searching until he'd turned over and put back virtually every item within the room. Finally he gave in to the voice, hurrying back though the hallway and making his way down the staircase in one quick rush.

"What are you-" Emerson's words halted as the brunette man glanced up at her with a shocked expression. She'd caught him in his sneaking act, she could sense the underlying guilt in the smile he tried to muster.

"Nature called." Sam lied quickly, pointing up the staircase he'd just been caught descending, grinning awkwardly at the blonde girl standing rigid less than a metre from himself. She nodded, a knowing smile igniting her features as she held out the two glasses of water she was holding.

"Give these to Kieryn and Dean, will you?" Sam nodded and took the glasses from her obligingly. "It's Sam, right?"

"Yeah," Sam assured, giving the pretty blonde girl a friendly smile, "Emerson, yeah?" As she nodded, Sam continued, "nice to meet you… again." Much to Sam's distaste, it was obvious the air around them had grown awkward and tension had reeked it's unwelcome wrath upon the pair. He nodded toward the lounge entrance with a lopsided smile and turned away from the piercing blue-eyed gaze fixed upon him, re-entering the living room.

Noticing his brother listening intently to the words of the red headed girl in front of him, still perched upon the brown leather sofas and not looking up at all to offer any evidence of noticing his presence at the doorway, he quickly sifted his small metal flask from his jacket pocket and poured some of the liquid contained within it into one of the glasses. He then turned back around to face the pair, sliding the flask back into his jeans pocket and walking over to hand the two their glasses.

He held out the glass he'd just previously poured holy water into for Kieryn and the other to Dean. Kieryn now seemed quieter than she had been before, eyes eerily dark with gravity as she glanced up at Sam's tall figure, hesitating before relieving the glass from his grasp.

Sam stood anxiously, watching as the girl took a sip from the glass, awaiting her reaction. But there was no scream of pain, no smash as the glass dropped to the floor. She merely took another sip, screwing her nose up before muttering, "the goddamn water filter must be broken again. Tastes like shit."

"You're sure you gave her the right glass?" Dean asked as he followed hurriedly behind his brother, down the short pathway and out the front gate of the property.

"Positive." Sam muttered, "there's no demon in her."

"What about the sister?"

Sam shook his head at his brother's suggestion, "I splashed a little holy water on her on the way out. She didn't even notice."

"You splashed some on her?" Dean inquired with a disbelieving chuckle, "Ooh Sammy, getting a little reckless there, don't yah think?"

"Bite me," Sam mumbled, obvious frustration saturating his tone. "Did you get anything helpful out of Kieryn?"

"Sure did." Dean bragged with a sly grin, opening the driver's door of his Impala and sliding his frame inside. "Get this; she _sleepwalks._"

Sam clicked his seatbelt in place before turning back to his brother. "Sleepwalks?"

"Yeah! Like real life zombie action or something. Difference is, she ain't no living dead."

"You think something's controlling her? Like maybe, making her do things in her sleep? Murder, for instance?"

"Jackpot." Dean nodded, a wild grin fashioning his face as he twisted his car keys in the ignition, bringing his baby to life.

"If it's a demon that's controlling her, then that would explain the Sulfur at the crime scene."

"Damn right Sammy." Dean said with a grin. "Oh, and she said it's happened 7 times over the last year. Waking up halfway across town."

Sam's mind was working overtime, ticking through all the notes he'd sifted through in his Dad's journal, all the articles he'd read on the internet and in books, scouring his memory for any similar case to what they suspected to be happening here. "How old is she?" He asked finally, looking back at his brother frantically.

"Uh, well. She said 1983, so that makes her-"

"23." Sam mumbled, silently connecting the jigsaw pieces together in his head. It seemed this case was turning out to be more intriguing than they'd anticipated.

"No way," Dean murmured, his eyes widening as he finally caught on to his brother's train of thought, "you don't think…"

"No." Sam interrupted, shaking his head quickly. "I'm probably wrong. Just forget it."

"How'd it go?" Emerson asked as she joined her sister in the living room. Kieryn was still seated in the same position as she had been while talking with Dean half an hour earlier; her back tensed and rigid, elbows pressing down onto her knees as she sat forward in anticipation.

"Brilliant." Kieryn muttered sarcastically, sighing and slumping back into the plush leather backrest. "They just love me."

"What exactly did they talk to you about?" Emerson sat forward on the couch adjacent to Kieryn's, watching her intently as the red-headed girl sifted through the previous hour or so in her mind.

"Last night, mostly," Kieryn murmured truthfully, replaying back all the words she'd told the man about her sleepwalking epidemic over the past year. She didn't want to worry her sister by telling her about the dead body they'd found. So she decided on leaving that part out altogether. Including the part about how they followed her trail straight back to the crime scene itself. Kieryn was still processing through that part herself, trying to come up with any explanation that could have worked. She was framed, perhaps? She was merely a witness, in the wrong place at the wrong time? "He said he could help me." She said finally, simply, pushing herself up off of the sofa and making a trek up the elegant staircase toward her bedroom. She tugged the piece of paper with Dean's number scrawled across it out of her pocket, examining it once before throwing it onto her desk.

"How'd you even get her to talk to you anyway?" Sam asked curiously, swinging the door of their motel room open and hurling his black duffel bag onto the nearest bed. The room was small; like every motel they ever stayed at, and held two single beds shoved tightly into one corner of the room each. Opposite of the beds sat a small, round wooden table and two matching chairs, beside a single bench kitchen unit. "I mean, when I left, you two were at each others throats."

Dean chuckled lightly, recalling the conversation in his head and deciding on skipping the part where he had blurted out his accusation about the dead man. "I told her the truth. We weren't cops, but we were people who could help."

"So… you told her we were… councillors?" Sam sat down upon one of the beds and began slipping the brown weathered boots from his feet.

"Yep."

"And she bought that?"

"Not for a second." Dean chuckled, remembering the exact words Kieryn had spoken after he'd fed her that line. _"You think I'm a freakin' idiot? Don't know about where you come from, but here in Michigan, we would consider that offensive."_ Those were her words precisely, if Dean's memory served him correct.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." It was obvious with the way she'd verbally thrashed Dean about his fake I.D. that she didn't like to be messed around. Sam respected her immediately for serving his brother up some trouble. It seemed as though Dean had met his match in the form of a petite, 5"7, blued eyed, red-headed girl. The idea of that altogether caused a chuckle to escape Sam's lips without his consent.

"What?" Dean queried upon hearing his brother's stifled laughter. He was now seated on one of the chairs at the table, watching his brother intensively as Sam shot Dean a humorous grin.

"Nothing." Sam replied finally, rising from the bed and exiting the motel room without another word.

Had it been any other time, Dean would have probed his brother's sudden departure, followed even, just to make sure he wasn't doing anything stupid. But now, Dean's mind was occupied on the conversation he'd had with a particular redhead earlier that day. After confronting her about the dead man, Kieryn had immediately gone off on a tangent of her own, giving away all the details about her strange sleeping habits. She'd even supplied him with the dates of each of the 7 times she'd subconsciously disappeared during the night, a fact Dean had left out when dishing the information to his brother. Dean had something he wanted to check out first before he went off and gave away his theory. He _had _to be sure about this.

Sam paced the open corridor outside their motel room, his cell phone pressed firmly to his ear as he listened to the dial tone that seemed to have been ringing continuously for hours.

"Damn it, Bobby!" He cursed under his breath as the ringing ceased and the older man's voice sounded on the other end, telling him to leave a message. "It's Sam. Give me a call when you get this," he said after the harsh singular beep, before slamming his phone closed and shoving it back into his jeans pocket. "Typical," he muttered lightly, strolling back to the door of his motel room and swinging the door ajar once again.

Dean was still perched at the round table, sifting through notes in the murder files of the two previous victims that they'd managed to con off of one of the intern police officers down at the town's sheriffs department. Well, more like _bribe _then con. It had cost them four hundred dollars in total; a fact that Dean wasn't at all pleased about.

The two crime scenes of the first and second murders had been identical to the one they'd witnessed themselves, and had been their reason for descending upon the small town of Petoskey, Michigan in the first place.

Dean set aside the two files and the handwritten note with Kieryn's sleepwalking dates scrawled over it, glancing up at his brother standing at the doorway, with an expression of new found discovery. "Sam, you've got to see this."

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><p><em>Review? And if you're interested, go check out my profile for pictures of Kieryn and Emerson. :)<em>


	5. Doubts

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"Sam, you've got to see this."

Sam examined the frantic look in his brother's eyes and slammed the motel room door to a final close. He hurried toward Dean seated at the small table, trying to get a visual peek at whatever it was that had his brother so intrigued. "What is it?"

"Dates." Dean said calmly, handing the small lined note paper to his brother. Sam's eyes screwed up in confusion as he inspected the small piece of paper. It held 7 dates upon it, he could see that much for sure, all dating in the past year alone, yet Sam still couldn't seem to find the relevance in it.

"And?"

Dean snatched the paper from Sam's hands, tearing a centre metre off of the corner with it. But he didn't stop to recognise the torn paper, for he was pulling out notes from the two murder files and laying them over the table in sloppy piles.

"Look." He said, pointing to the date of death printed upon the file of the first murder victim. Sam watched intently as his finger then backtracked back to the small piece of note paper, tracing over the place where the exact same date was written in Dean's own sloppy handwriting; January 12th, 2007. Without stopping for questions or remarks, Dean scanned over the next murder file until he found what he was looking for. He pinned the date upon this file with his index finger for merely a millisecond, but it was enough time for Sam to catch the drift. January 29th, 2007. That same date matched one written in black ink on the note paper.

"Alright. They both match. But what is this?" Sam asked, grabbing the piece of paper with the dates on it and examining it once more, holding it right up to his eyes in order to visualise anything written on it that he may have missed previously, some hidden code within the numbers, even a personal connection with the dates perhaps. He couldn't seem to find anything.

"They're the dates of Kieryn's, well, _sleepwalking_ nights."

Sam's mouth fell agape with awe at the sudden revelation. It seemed that what they suspected to be going on _really_ was happening. Kieryn was smack dead in the middle of a demon's whacked up plan and neither she nor her sister had a clue in the world. "So that accounts for 3 nights." Sam said, more to himself than his brother.

Dean nodded, "now, you've got to find out where she went on the other nights. Maybe somebody was reported missing the next day-"

"Wait a second," Sam muttered, interrupting his brother's spiel, "_I've_ got to do this? What about you?"

"Hey, hey!" Dean objected, holding his open palms up in protest, "Who's the one who did all the genius connecting-the-dots here, Sammy? I did," a proud smirk graced Dean's lips as he spoke. "Now, I'm gonna go get me some pie."

Sam huffed out a loud sigh of frustration, dropping his face into his palms and sitting forward on the bed to rest his elbows upon his knees. Dean had been gone over an hour now and Sam was beginning to wonder how long it would take just to get himself a slice of pie. He'd probably got distracted somehow, began chatting up a waitress or something. Sam wouldn't put it past his brother to be hooking up with some random chick in the middle of a case. Dean was renowned for thinking with his downstairs brain when in reality he should be working.

The sound of his cell phone chiming loudly from his jeans pocket ceased his exasperated thoughts.

"Hello?" Sam spoke into the receiver after having just flipped his cell phone open. There was a sharp intake of breath from the other line before a voice seeped through.

"Sam! It's me. Hey, guess what just happened."

Sam chuckled at the sound of his brother's frantic voice, "I don't know. You just had the best apple pie in your life?"

"Actually, it was cherry," Dean countered, "and that's not what I'm calling about. Police just discovered the body down Claris Road."

"Seriously?"

Sam heard his brother scoff on the other end, "Seriously? Yeah, seriously!" His tone dripped of sarcasm which caused Sam to grit his teeth in annoyance. "Anyway, I think you should get down here. Bring my suit and badge, would you? We'd better look official."

"Dean, wait!" Sam called through the receiver before his brother had the chance to hang up. "You've got the car. How am I supposed to get down there?"

"Oh, I don't know Sammy. Use your legs?" Dean chuckled, "besides, you need a good run. Gettin' a little chubby round the thighs." With this said, the line went blank and Sam was left with an overwhelming silence. Slamming his phone closed with a grunt of irritation, he immediately went to work, ruffling through his own bags in search of his black suit, before setting off on a hunt for his brother's.

Dean waited anxiously beside his black Impala for his brother, who seemed to be taking his sweet time. He glanced at the watch on his left wrist, groaning as the time now read just past 6pm. It was far too close to dinner time to be doing the hard yards like this. As soon as they were done here, Dean would hurry down to the nearest diner and order the largest feed on the menu. With a side of fries.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam called as he approached the car, his brother's figure visible leaning back against the hood of the classic 67' Chevy Impala.

"Finally!" Dean growled, swiping the shrivelled suit from his brother's arms as Sam reached him. "What, you only had time to do half the ironing, Mrs Betty Crocker?" He asked mockingly as he examined the suit before him, obvious creases lining the whole left leg of the black trousers.

"Ha ha." Sam muttered sarcastically, shoving his brother in the shoulder and pointing toward a public toilet stall conveniently located just across the road from where Dean had parked. Claris Road was the name of the street where they had discovered the man's body the night before, and Dean had done a good job in parking just on the street over so as not to look too conspicuous. "Get changed. I'll wait here."

Dean nodded and obliged, strolling toward the public toilet sign and disappearing into the small concrete block.

Sam stooped his tall frame back against the driver's door of the car, scanning his eyes along the empty street. This part of town seemed to be completely deserted, houses compactly scattered along every street, yet no evidence of life residing within the brick clad buildings anywhere. They had been in Petoskey for only two days now, yet Sam hadn't heard of a single crop failure or lightening storm, the usual demonic omens that took place within a Demon's choice of location. There was still something, _something_ about this case that wasn't adding up and that thought bugged Sam to the core.

"Sam!"

Sam's gaze flicked up the second he caught the voice calling his name. It hadn't been his brother's voice, he was certain of that with the fact that it had been a female's that he had heard.

Turning his head to the left, Sam finally saw the bearer of the voice, eyes fixing upon a familiar blonde girl who was leaning against the trunk of Dean's car.

"Hey." Emerson mumbled, her eyes straying from Sam's as sirens sounded in the near distance, her gaze struggling to locate the direction of the noise.

"Hey, Emerson. What are you doing here?" Sam's voice was calm as he tried to pick the agenda behind the sudden meeting. Sam knew that she lived at least 20 minutes away from where she was standing at this moment.

"Heard the cop cars. Followed them to Claris Road," her words were stifled as she scratched her nose, trying to rid the sniffles. "Kieryn didn't… do that, did she?"

Sam knew immediately that Emerson was talking about the murder. She knew about the body they'd found. She knew where they had discovered Kieryn the night before; on that exact street. She must have connected the dots.

"It's a possibility," he said softly, regretting the words as hurt filled the icy blues eyes of the young woman in front of him.

"What if they find evidence against her?" Emerson's voice was riddled with panic as she thought over that concept. "I can't let her go to jail, Sam! She didn't mean to do it. She couldn't have, she-" Her words were halted suddenly as a deep sob hitched in her throat. Tears began to pool in the ducts of her eyes yet she swiped them away with a clenched fist, looking back up at the tall, shaggy haired man before her.

"You guys aren't cops, are you?" She asked almost inaudibly, intently watching as Sam's expression changed to one of guilt.

"No." Sam answered truthfully, knowing he was unable to lie to the miserable blonde girl who was terrified for the life of her sister. He knew that feeling, and he knew that he didn't have the heart to lie to her.

"I'd better go." She muttered lightly, casting Sam a half-hearted smile before turning around to stroll back down the street in the direction she came.

"Wait!" Sam called, pulling a motel receipt from his pocket along with a pen, with which he scrawled his cell phone number onto the docket. "Call if you need anything." He told her firmly, holding the paper out to her for her to take. She did so, folding it in half once and burying it deep into the pocket of her grey coat. Emerson shot Sam one last thankful smile before strolling back toward her faded red Mustang, parked a few houses down.

The sound of stifled laughter caused Sam's gaze to flick to the right, where Dean was standing a few metres from him, dressed formally in his black blazer and trousers.

"Took you long enough." Sam mumbled, strolling around the trunk of the car to the passengers side, etching the door open and sliding his figure inside.

Dean hopped into the driver's seat, slamming the door closed and fishing his keys from the pocket of his blazer. "Oh, I was changed five minutes ago. But you two seemed to be having such a nice chat that I didn't want to disturb you." A wicked grin crossed Dean's features as he started the car's engine and drove off down the street. He turned a sharp left at the corner and drove only a few extra metres before turning left again onto their destination of Claris Road.

Dean counted at least four police cars parked outside the familiar house from the night before, plus one more parked just further down the road. It seemed as though this murder was shaping up to be something that required the assistance of all the policemen available in the small town of Petoskey. Dean noted the large _For Sale_ sign standing in the front yard and chuckled darkly to himself. _No one's going to be buying that house for a while,_ he thought.

Dean slowly pulled over to the right curb, just across the road from the house that seemed to have gained the attention of the entire neighbourhood. Sure enough, it was the exact home he and Sam had been lead to the night before, though it looked slightly different in the dim evening light; less eerie, more of an innocent family home than slaughter house. Come to think of it, this house looked identical to any of the houses along this same street; orangey red bricks, double story, a neat, trimmed garden of shrubs leading all the way up to the front veranda of the home. Who would have guessed that this house was now witness to the violent slaying of a presumably innocent man?

Sam was already out of the car and part way across the street by the time Dean had just switched off the car's engine. He hurried out of the car, rushing to catch up with his brother whilst digging through the pockets of his blazer in search of his fake FBI badge. Together, the brothers shoved through the growing crowd of nosy onlookers circling the whole front of the property, simultaneously holding up their badges. For the second time in 24 hours, they walked straight up the path of the property, holding their badges up higher to any of the police officers that shot them an inquisitive look.

Forensic workers were swarmed around the familiar body like vultures as Sam and Dean entered they room. From the looks of things, they were searching for any possible fibre or print left behind by the murderer.

"Damn killer's meticulous, alright." Sam overheard one of the worker's say to another. Seemed as though they weren't having the best of luck in their hunt for evidence after all.

"Time of death?" Dean asked, approaching behind one of the elder investigators crouched over the body. It struck Dean that this man was examining the body in much similar a way to how he had around 18 hours earlier.

"No more than 20 hours ago, by the looks." The man answered, looking up at Sam and Dean inquiringly, briefly inspecting the badges they each held up in unison. "Didn't know the FBI was working this case."

Dean smiled humorously, sending the man a sharp expression of warning. "Well Chuckles, we are."


	6. Disturbances

_okay, THANKYOUTHANKYOU to the few people who have left reviews so far. Seriously. They make my day a million times over. I think I literally jump for joy when I see that someone's left a review. So PLEASE don't be shy. Go ahead and leave me one. It'll be greatly appreciated! Anyway, hope you're all enjoying so far. Here's chapter six! Things will start gettin' a bit more interesting from the next chapter onward._

_oh and just quickly; updates won't be quite as frequent from now on, as I've finally caught up with where this is posted to on Mibba. But there will not be any more than a five day gap between updates, so don't worry. ;)_

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SIX<strong>

After speaking with a few of the neighbours that had gathered outside the murder house, Sam and Dean had come to the knowledge that the victim's name had been Brian McGregor, a local family man that lived only a few blocks away. He was the real estate agent for the house he was discovered in, which gave a reasonable answer as to what he was doing in an empty house in the first place. The owner of the house had discovered him when she'd gone in for a quick inspection. Brian had been reported missing by his wife yesterday morning after not coming home from work the night previous.

"We'll talk to Mrs McGregor in the morning." Dean said to Sam as he pushed open the neon orange door to the diner, welcoming the smell of greasy pleasure food with a large inhale of the delicious aroma. He sat down at an empty booth seat and Sam slid into the seat opposite, each of them simultaneously grabbing a menu from the table they sat at.

Sam nodded and pursed his lips as he thought over his brother's suggestion. It was reasonable enough, considering it was already 7:30pm now and the last thing the poor widow probably wanted was to be hounded by another couple of FBI agents at this hour.

"Can I help you boys?" A petite, curvaceous waitress asked as she approached the two men who had just entered the diner. She smiled flirtatiously as the short haired one sent her a wicked grin, accompanied with the raising of his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I'll take the flapjacks and a coffee thanks." Sam interjected the two's eye contact with a pleased smirk, crossing his arms over one another as he leant back into the plush red leather of the booth seat.

"Alright," the waitress said as she jotted down Sam's order upon the notepad she held in her hands, "anything for you, sir?"

"I'll take the works burger, with fries," his smirk dented further into his smug face as the pretty waitress smiled wildly and nodded, flipping her notepad to a close. With a flick of her bouncy brunette hair, she strolled back toward the diner's kitchen.

"Whoa." Dean mumbled lightly, his gaze trailing behind the waitress.

Sam chose to ignore his brother's pleased grin, pulling his beat-up laptop from the bag aside him and placing it onto the tabletop. "So, I checked out those dates," he began, "I couldn't find anything local for the other dates you gave me. But last night was February 14th, right? Just over two weeks since the last murder. And the one before that was just over a fortnight before the first. Seems like whatever's doing this is keeping at least a fortnight's gap between for preparation or something."

"Alright. Simple enough." Dean said, nodding as he thought over the information Sam had just given him, "that gives us about two weeks to figure out what's controlling Kieryn, and how to stop it. Great. Should be fun."

Sam chuckled at the obvious sarcasm that reeked his brother's words. "Yeah. Should be," he agreed with equal amount of sarcasm.

Emerson clutched her arms tight around her torso, hugging herself securely so as to rid the cold from seeping through the openings of her long grey coat. Leaving her car parked in the driveway of the home that had once been her parents, she hurried up the porch steps while fishing through her pockets for her house keys.

The front door of the house was flung open before Emerson could even push the key into the keyhole.

"Oh, hey Kerry." Emerson greeted her sister casually, shoving past the staunch figure in the doorway.

"Where the hell have you been?" Kieryn watched her sister with an interrogating glare as the older girl slipped her converse shoes from her feet and stalked off down the hallway into the kitchen.

"I'm 25! Oh, sorry, am I not allowed to leave the house without your permission, _Mom_?" Emerson called out sarcastically, shuffling through the fridge for something to drink.

Kieryn grunted, entering the kitchen and plopping herself at one of the barstools that lined the bench. Em had a point, as much as Kieryn hated admitting that. In all honesty, she was worried about her sister's sudden departure six hours earlier. But Kieryn was too stubborn a person to be downright honest about something like that, so she stuck to her guns.

"I asked you a goddamn question."

Emerson exhaled loudly, closing the door to the fridge and turning around to face the ruthless looking Kieryn, leaning back against the cold stainless steel surface behind her. "I've been at the house." She said simply, accompanied by a shrug. She witnessed a sincere expression of confusion develop upon her sister's face but didn't bother to explain her absence any further.

"What house?" Kieryn asked intently, leaning forward over the bench with widened eyes. Kieryn was convinced that Emerson was hiding something from her with the way that she had halted her words. Emerson had never been one to keep secrets and always caved instantly when probed. Kieryn knew this from experience.

Emerson grunted, anger beginning to course through her veins. Her fists clenched unintentionally, her teeth gritting as she reminisced the scene she'd witnessed only hours earlier. "The house where you fucking _murdered_ that guy, Kieryn!"

Emerson immediately felt guilty for her harsh outburst as her sister's expression turned blank, her widened eyes glazing over with the trace unshed tears.

"It wasn't me." Kieryn was shaking her head in denial, trying desperately to rid Emerson's accusation from her mind. Even her _sister,_ the only family she had left, believed that she was responsible for the death of that man. Kieryn had lost all hope in remaining an innocent woman, because now there was not a soul in the world that would believe Kieryn's side of the story. For starters, because Kieryn didn't even _have_ her own side of the story. She couldn't remember a thing from the night before. For all she knew, she may as well have been guilty. But Kieryn didn't want to let herself believe that, as she was the only person left that could prove herself to be _innocent_.

"I'm sorry, Kieryn," Emerson hurried over to the red-headed girl, rubbing away the tears that were etching down her sister's pale cheeks before wrapping the small girl in her arms comfortingly. "I know you didn't mean to do it." A wet liquid dribbled down her own cheek and Emerson realized she too was crying. She began shaking her head, as if to shake away the tears. "But it's okay. They're not going to find you. I got rid of all the evidence. They can't-"

"You _what_?" Kieryn asked angrily, pulling away from the embrace to look her sister dead in the eye.

Emerson stumbled over ways to get through this interrogation, internally cursing herself for having said too much. "I went to the house at 2," she started truthfully. "I cleaned up after you. You didn't leave much behind, really. The only thing I found that could've traced back to you was a hair. But it's okay now. They're not going to find you. You're not going to prison."

Kieryn stared at her sister as though she was completely nuts. It seemed as though she was; what she had just told Kieryn sounded absolutely _absurd._ Her sister was even more of an idiot than she thought possible.

"You shouldn't have done that." Kieryn muttered, almost totally incoherent, before fully pushing herself away from Emerson's grasp and trudging down the hallway, up the staircase, to her bedroom.

Sam pressed in the doorbell before stepping back, adjusting his black blazer as Dean did the same. It was around 11am by now and after a late breakfast, the two had hurried to get ready for their interrogation with the third victim's wife.

Shuffling sounded from within the neat brick home and Sam glanced at his brother who stood patiently beside him, just as the door was pulled open hesitantly by a woman who looked to be somewhere in her early thirties.

"Hello, Mam. We're with the FBI. I'm agent Bonham, this is Agent Warner." Dean stated methodically as the blonde haired woman eyed the two men at her doorway. Sam and Dean each pulled their I.D. from their pockets and held them out for the woman to examine.

Sam smiled apologetically. "We're very sorry for your loss, Mrs McGregor. If you don't mind, we'd like to come inside and go over a few routine questions with you."

"I guess it's _Ms_ McGregor, now." The woman frowned as grief at the realization overcame her. She stepped aside from the doorway, allowing Sam and Dean to enter the dully decorated home before she shut the door behind them.

"Is there anyone you can think of who may have wanted your husband dead?" Sam asked, now seated upon the grey sofa in the compact living room of the woman's home.

Louise McGregor sniffed back the tears threatening to overflow at the thought of her husband, shaking her head. "No. Brian was a wonderful man. Everyone loved him." She inhaled deeply before continuing. "He was always very kind spirited. We went to church every Sunday and he was always staying late to volunteer with the planning or preparation of any upcoming community events."

"Did your husband act strange at all in the days before his death?"

She shook her head, reminiscing the last moments she'd spent with her husband. "No," she said finally. "I don't understand, I went over all of this with the other FBI agent this morning."

Sam and Dean exchanged a confused glance. From what they'd heard, the FBI truly weren't stepping in on these murders at all. Sam wondered how it was even possible that an actual FBI agent had made it there before them.

"I'm sorry Mam, are you sure he was with the FBI?" Dean asked sceptically. The woman gave him a weary glance before nodding.

"Yes. And it was a woman. Slim, with orangey brown hair. Looked a little too young to be working on the force."

"Son of a bitch." Dean mumbled quietly as the woman's given description began to sink in.

"Excuse me?"

"Thank you, Mam." Sam interjected quickly, rising from the sofa with the faint hint of a smile masking his face, "that's all we'll be needing for now."

They each thanked the woman for her time in turn before exiting the woman's home, making their way together down the concreted pathway toward Dean's Impala.

"You think it was Kieryn?" Dean asked as the two men reached his car parked outside the property, each sliding inside and slamming their doors closed in unison.

"It's got to be." Sam confirmed. "But why would she pretend to be FBI when she's the one that committed goddamn the murder in the first place?"

Dean turned the car keys in the ignition. "Well, let's find out."


	7. Explanation

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Kieryn bloody O'Riley, eh?" Dean cursed suddenly, slamming his fist on down on the steering wheel. "That scheming little bitch!"

"Dean, calm down."

"Me calm down? You calm down!" Dean yelled angrily, glancing over at his brother's disbelieving expression in the passenger seat. "Fine, I'll calm down."

Sam chuckled at the idiocy his elder brother so often seemed to possess.

The road ahead of them sped past with growing velocity as Dean's speed increased by the second, his foot glued securely to the acceleration pedal. God, he was furious. The little redhead thought she could come along and do _their_ job for them. She probably had absolutely no idea what exactly she was dealing with anyway. Would end up getting herself and her sister killed, if that wasn't the _demon_'s plans for her already.

"Just here." Sam reminded, pointing to the O'Riley girls' home they'd visited just the day before. Dean abruptly pulled his car over to the curb, slamming on the brake pedal and twisting the keys in the ignition, causing the car's engine to cease it's humming immediately. He shoved the driver's door ajar, hopping out and slamming it closed again, beginning his ascent up the pathway of the girls' property with Sam trailing behind him. He banged his fist against the dark wood of their front door, gritting his teeth to cease his heavy, jagged breathing.

Sam reached Dean at the door just as it was swung open.

"Oh, hey guys. What's-"

"Where's Kieryn?" Dean demanded, shoving past the bewildered looking Emerson to allow himself entrance into their home.

"Uh, her room I guess. Why?"

Dean didn't stop for one second to answer Emerson's question. He was already rushing down the fancy hallway, so fast and so abruptly that he wouldn't have been surprised to look back and see a jet stream trailing behind him. He ran up the staircase, skipping two steps each time, until he reached the top where he began his decent through the second hallway.

"What the-" Kieryn's words cut short as the figure who had just busted through her bedroom door looked up to meet her eyes finally. Dean glared at her with obvious infuriation and Kieryn stood from her bed accordingly.

"Snazzy suit you've got on there. Makes for a pretty convincing FBI agent, huh?" Dean snickered lightly.

"And?" Kieryn muttered through her gritted teeth, her piercing blue eyes pinning daggers into the man before her. He really thought he had the right to barge into _her_ room and accuse _her_ of being a fraud? "You're not exactly much better yourself, Mr _Bonham_!"

"Who _are_ you? Veronica Guerin?" His words were harsh, unyielding as he spoke, spluttering a mocking sneer as he watched the girl through slanted lids. "You're a hunter, aren't you?" Dean blurted out, disregarding his common sense altogether. The redhead's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she wondered if she'd misheard the man's unusual inquiry.

"I shot a deer once." She stated, though it came out as more of a question than an answer.

"Don't get smart with me, missy." Dean spoke harshly. "Why did you question Mrs McGregor this morning?"

"Because I'm starting to actually believe I may have killed that man." Kieryn uttered quietly, almost inaudibly, though Dean picked up on what she'd said and instantly felt a surge of guilt shoot through him.

Kieryn let herself fall back onto her bed and began twirling her fingers around each other in her lap, refusing to look back up at the man who had so suddenly fallen silent. "I just want to know _why._" She continued, talking so softly she could have been speaking to only herself. "Why I did it. It's not like I remember. I don't even think I've seen that man in my life!" Kieryn slammed a clenched fist down onto her trouser-clad knee, gritting her teeth tightly and struggling desperately to will back the tears trying to break through. "But he was a good guy. I killed a freaking church goer!"

"If it makes you feel any better, we don't think you did it," Dean objected, suddenly feeling a strong ripple of pity toward the girl. "Well, not intentionally," he added after silent contemplation, seeing as this was the truth. She may have physically been the one to do-the-deed, but deep down Dean truly believed that she wasn't liable for the crime. Or the two before. If it really was a demon that was somehow controlling her during her sleep, then she had absolutely no mental say in what she did during that time and in Dean's mind, that made her innocent.

"But if it wasn't _me_, then who the hell else could have done it?" Kieryn inquired, confusion riddling her tone and showing on her fair face. "You found me there. Blood on my hands. How could it possibly have been anyone else?"

Dean chuckled lightly yet Kieryn couldn't pinpoint a single word in that sentence that he could have interpreted as _funny_.

"Actually, I have an answer to that." Dean said finally, "but it's going to sound completely insane. And I think your sister'd better hear it too." With this Dean held out an outstretched palm, taking Kieryn's hand and pulling her from her seated position on the bed.

"You're telling me she dressed up as a federal agent?" Emerson asked in disbelief, gazing at the tall brunette man as though he were insane. Her _baby_ sister, impersonating an officer of the law? Kieryn _despised_ the police.

Sam chuckled softly, "you didn't hear it from me." With this he sent a glance down the hallway to the staircase his brother had just moments before rushed up. He had been expecting to hear immediate yelling, or perhaps a loud bang as Dean dramatically busted the door open; a habit Dean had so often succumbed to. But neither of those sounds entered his hearing and Sam felt a pang of relief that his brother hadn't shot the girl dead on arrival. Not yet, anyway. He was still half expecting to hear the loud bang of his brother's gun going off any second now.

"Can I ask you something?"

Emerson's question pulled Sam from his thoughts and he turned back to face the blonde girl. She was now leaning with her back against the front door, icy blue eyes watching him with an inquisitive intensity that almost made him the slightest bit nervous.

Sam nodded, giving her the go ahead.

"Who _are_ you guys?" She didn't exactly beat around the bush with this one. The question lingered in the atmosphere as Sam struggled to grasp exactly how she wanted him to answer that.

"Well, we're not federal agents, for starters." Sam began, running a hand through his thick brown hair. "But you already knew that." Already he was weighing up the pros and cons of telling this girl the total truth. The time would come when they would _have_ to, in order to save Kieryn from the evil force that was manipulating her each fortnight.

"Sam!"

Before Sam could continue his explanation to the blonde girl, his brother's voice beckoned him over to the staircase to see Dean and Kieryn descending the steps together, until they reached the bottom in unison and Kieryn led the way into the living room.

"So, what's the sitch?" Kieryn said jokingly once all four of them were seated on the two adjacent leather sofas in her living room.

"Kim Possible," Dean grinned inwardly, nodding, "I like it. You even look like her. With the orange hair and all."

"How do you?-" Sam stopped short of his inquiry, shaking his head at how unpredictable Dean could be at times.

"Anyway…" Emerson mumbled, trying to regain the focus of the other three. The topic had somehow managed to stray to Kieryn's likeliness with a cartoon character, which made Emerson feel a little unsure about how serious these guys really were about helping her sister.

Sam sensed Emerson's growing impatience and quickly diverted the conversation back to what they'd come for. "Trust me, what we're about to tell you is going to sound completely insane-"

"Totally and absolutely nuts. Crackers. Mental. Psychotic." Dean intruded, a little too enthusiastically, a goofy grin plastered to his face.

Sam nodded, casting his brother a sideways glance of confusion before continuing. "Look, we think something's been controlling you while you sleep."

"Cookoo." Dean mumbled, swirling his index finger in a circular motion beside his head in attempt to lighten the mood, the same grin etched into his features fading as the two girls stayed ultimately silent, each upholding a matching blank expression upon their faces.

"Who the hell could do that?" Kieryn asked finally, her voice panic stricken as she glanced back and forth between the two brothers before her.

Dean shook his head. "Not who. _What._" His expression was grave, a perfect equivalent of his brother's.

Emerson laughed, though no saw not one ounce of humour behind Dean's words. "What do you mean?"

"Look, there's things out there, in the dark, that you wouldn't ever dream of."

Kieryn was staring at Dean sceptically, going over his sentence in her head in attempt to make any sense out of the words. "What, like… pedophiles?"

Sam and Dean laughed in unison and Sam instantly regretted having to be the one to strip this girl of her innocence completely. "Not quite. More like monsters. Creatures. That kind of deal."

"Demons." Dean added simply.

A harsh chuckle escaped Emerson's mouth as she watched the two men who seemed completely and utterly convinced that they were telling the direct truth. "You're right. That is crackers." She rose from the sofa, shooting her sister a warning glare before facing the men once more. "I think you should leave."

"Whoa, hold up there." Dean stood from the sofa too, holding his open palms up in protest.

"Leave." Emerson mumbled, her gaze held firmly on Dean's in a stare-off.

"Em, wait." Kieryn objected finally, finding her voice for the first time after the brother's crazy spiel. It really did sound insane, what they had said, but Kieryn didn't want to be the one to push away the only people who could help her all because of _fear_. Fear was a petty emotion that she despised greatly, and she promised then that she would not let fear be the emotion to tear away her only hope of recovery.

Emerson glanced down at her sister as though she had turned completely psychotic also, but Kieryn ignored the disapproving glare as she too rose from the brown leather couch, her eyes skipping between Sam and Dean continuously.

"Alright then." She said, crossing her arms over her chest with an expression that meant business. "And what exactly do these things you speak of have to do with me?"

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hey everybody. Thanks **Difficult-notImpossible** for the TWO reviews you've given so far. The rest of you could learn a thing or two from her. :) Kidding. But I do love to see that people are enjoying my writing. Lots of hits so far, so that makes me pleased. Keep it up. Hope you're all enjoying this! Suggestions/Feedback would be wonderful._


	8. Revelations

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

"You guys want a beer or anything?" Emerson asked quietly, once the boys had finished explaining that life as she knew it was practically a lie and that neither she nor her sister would never be safe again. Of course, they hadn't said it quite like this; but it's what Emerson heard. She heard their stories, their sugar-coated explanations of what they suspected to be happening to her sister, and all she could wonder was whether these _things_ they spoke of were responsible for her mother's death. Or her father's disappearance.

"Yeah, thanks," Sam and Dean replied together, breaking the cursive flow of her thoughts. Emerson got off the couch and headed toward the living room's exit, thankful for the excuse to leave. She needed space, some time out, just to think things over. To decide whether to call the cops on these two men, or let them suck her and her sister into their weird, whacko world, on nothing but a hunch.

Dean noticed the vibration of Emerson's hands as she exited and realized the girl was scared out of her wits. He felt a small pang of guilt but brushed it away instantly. "Now, you saw your sister's reaction, earlier?" Dean asked, turning back to face the scarily calm redheaded girl before him.

"Yeah?" Kieryn nodded, scrunching her brows up in confusion.

"That's how _you _should be reacting. Denial. Freaking out inside. That's how _normal_ people react to this stuff." Dean leant back into the plush leather of the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest. "You should be freaking out right now. Go on, go have a tantrum or something. We'll understand."

Kieryn smirked as though Dean's words were somehow amusing to her. "You really don't want to be around when I'm having a tantrum."

Both Sam and Dean laughed before Dean replied, "actually, you're right. That could prove lethal."

"Anyway, I've always had a bit of a suspicion."

"A suspicion?" Sam spoke up for the first time in a while, sitting forward in the seat so as to hear Kieryn's words properly.

"I've just always felt like there was more out there than just us humans, you know? Like, there were other things out there that over the years, people just forgot even existed. That people didn't _want_ to believe existed."

If Sam hadn't known any better, he would believed this girl was a born hunter. With the way she was talking it sounded as though she'd had some sort of experience with this world, he and his brother's world. But before Sam even had the chance to ask, Emerson re-entered the room, four beer bottles in hand.

Emerson divvied out the bottles to each of the others before taking a long swig of her own, savouring the cool liquid as it slid down her throat, replenishing her thirst instantly. "So what do we do now?" She asked.

"Well, we don't think this things going to strike for another ten days, at least. It seems to be sticking to its pattern pretty well," Sam explained, his tone complete with solemnity. "That gives us ten days to put together a plan. What exactly it is that we're dealing with, and how to break the bond it seems to have with Kieryn here. But most importantly, how to kill it."

"Sammy and I can take care of all that," Dean added. "You girls just sit tight."

Despite the certainty Dean's words upheld, Kieryn didn't like the idea of just sitting around twiddling her thumbs. She may have been totally inexperienced with all of the things they'd spoken of, but Kieryn wasn't one to let that stop her. She was a quick learner. She was also determined. "I want to help," she said suddenly, obviously catching Dean off guard, as he glanced at her disbelievingly as soon as the words spilled from her mouth. "What can I do to help?" She rephrased, smiling assuredly.

"You can sit tight, like I said."

Kieryn shot Dean a harsh glare which he returned with a matching amount of hostility. He didn't want to get her involved in this; hell, she was already involved enough as it was! Putting her or her sister at even more of a risk was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Dean, Kieryn's the biggest lead we have to finding this thing." Sam spoke quietly to his brother beside him, letting his words reach only Dean's ears. "I think that having her around could prove helpful."

"You know I'm not going to back down." Kieryn intruded, smiling smugly and crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed to smirk like that a lot; Dean noted. "Look, I even got this nice fake badge printed especially." With this she pulled a black leather wallet from the pocket of her blazer, slapping it open to reveal the shiny printed I.D. held within a plastic slip. _Agent Alesha Warner_, the print read, along with all the same routine details held upon the usual legit FBI badge.

"Fine!" Dean agreed begrudgingly. "But you're not going off on your own! You and I will do rounds in the morning, interviewing anyone who knew either of the three victims, to try to put together a possible link between the three of them. That leaves Sam and Em on research duty. Anything you can find out about what this thing is, how it's controlling Kieryn, and how to stop it. We start tomorrow morning."

"Ai ai, Cap'n." Emerson muttered jokingly. She would have a word with Dean later about the consequences he'd be faced with if Kieryn was at all hurt during the time she spends with him. Though she desperately wanted to, she still wasn't completely convinced that she could trust the enigmatic brothers quite yet. Better safe than sorry. At least one of the sisters had to be thinking logically and judging on Kieryn's sudden new jump-in-and-conquer attitude, Emerson felt that she was that sister for the time being.

"So, this is your job?" Kieryn inquired suddenly, twirling her beer bottle in the air with one hand, casually glancing between the two brothers in question.

Dean smirked. "Not exactly."

Sam took a large gulp from his bottle before adding, "we don't get paid."

The sun had just completed its descent behind the dark hills in the distance by the time Sam and Dean left the girl's home. Darkness was emerging quickly and in with it crept a chilling cold that caused Sam's teeth to chatter lightly as he stole down the pathway of their property alongside his brother.

The girls had been curious about the brothers' adventures and Dean had gotten a little carried away in describing the numerous times he'd swooped in and saved Sam's life at the very last minute. Naturally, he had forgotten to mention all the times that Sam had prevented Dean's ass from painful death, but Sam didn't mention that. After all, he didn't want to rain on his brother's parade.

"I like this case." Dean mused suddenly, pulling Sam away from his reminiscence. "I mean, it's not often we get to hang out with two hot chicks the whole day." With this, he cast a sideways grin at Sam in the passenger seat of the car before refixing his gaze upon the road ahead of him.

Sam nodded, though only half paying attention to his brother's words. Seconds later, Dean turned a tight left into the parking lot of their chosen motel site.

"I'm gonna go get some food." Dean said after entering the motel room, now ruffling through his black duffel back in search of a change of clothes. They were still dressed in the suits they'd worn to Mrs McGregor's that morning and Dean was beginning to feel uncomfortably formal. "You want anything?"

"Surprise me." Sam said, just as Dean slid out of the motel room, entering the chill of the nights breeze. Dean walked over to the sleek black car parked adjacent to their room, shoving the keys into the door and slipping inside.

With a quick twist of the keys in the ignition, his baby staggered to life, and Dean pressed in the clutch followed by the accelerator, driving out of the vacant car park and down the road. He was in the mood for something greasy and delicious, which wouldn't be hard to find in the small, thriving town of Petoskey. He'd already seen multiple takeouts on previous treks around town. And right now, any takeout would do.

Sam closed the lid of his laptop with a sigh, thrumming his fingers along the metallic surface. Dean was taking his time with the food. _Again._ Though Sam shouldn't have expected any better from Dean Winchester.

The ring tone of Sam's phone broke the overwhelming silence around him, the tune sounding through the small speakers and ricocheting off of the walls of the compact room. He stood from the table to grab his cell phone from the bed, flipping it open.

"Dean, what now?" He mumbled, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

"It's not Dean, kiddo."

"Oh, hey Bobby." Sam greeted the older man on the other line. Bobby Singer had been a friend of their fathers, a hunter like themselves, and had helped the brother's out countless times.

"You boys working a case?" Bobby's voice held a fatherly tone and Sam nodded, though the other man wouldn't see it.

"Yeah. Michigan. A strange one," Sam said. "You ever heard of a demon that can control people in their sleep?"

Bobby's gruff laughter sounded through the phone receiver. "That is a strange one. You're sure it's a demon?"

"No." Sam spoke truthfully, "but we found Sulfur at the crime scene. See, there's a girl who claims she has these, these sleepwalking episodes. We practically found her at the scene, blood all over her, yet she has no recollection of ever seeing the man in her life. She just, got up in her sleep, walked halfway across town and murdered a man she never even knew."

"And you trust this girl to be telling the truth?"

Sam thought over the question before answering with complete certainty. "Yeah."

Bobby cleared his throat before continuing the talk. "This girl, what's her name?"

"Kieryn O'Riley."

"She got a sister?"

Sam was silenced for a moment, wondering how it was possible of Bobby to have known that. "Yeah, actually. Why?"

Bobby ignored the inquiry altogether, continuing on his sudden hunch. "And you said you're in Michigan. Petoskey, by chance?"

"Yeah!" Sam was growing more and more confused by the second. "Do you know something?"

"Damn it, they're probably Donovan O'Riley's girls." Bobby cursed to himself, reminiscing the state Donovan had been in the last time Bobby had seen him. That was at least 23 years ago by now, if Bobby recalled correctly. "How much do you know about them?"

"Not much." Sam said. He was becoming more impatient with each unanswered question. "But she said her parents were Jasper and Marie, or something like that. Not Donovan."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Bobby muttered. "I haven't seen that man in 23 years. He came to me not long after his wife was killed, said he left his two girls in the care of his brother. I'm not completely sure on all the details but I think Jasmine was killed when Kieryn was only 6 months old. Sound familiar at all?"

"No way." Sam mumbled, as Bobby's words began to sink in. Things were turning out just the way he had considered before.

"I'm afraid so. If this is yellow eyes we're talking about, then you boys'd better be careful. Now, I could be wrong about this, Donovan was never clear on what really happened to his wife. The last I heard, the man's still alive. Don't know if he's still in the states, though. I heard through the grapevine that he's been chasing a vampire nest for a few weeks now, somewhere up in Canada."

"Do the girls know?"

"What, about Daddy dearest being a hunter? I wouldn't have a clue on earth."

Sam nodded, telling himself he would ask them that himself as soon as he got the chance. "Bobby, one last thing. It's just if this _is_ yellow eye's work, then sleepwalking isn't exactly the kind of psychic _gift_ he usually _blesses_ people with, is it?"

"Maybe sleepwalking isn't all this girl's up to."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Opinions? If you're confused about anything, feel free to ask away. The next two chapters are some of my favourites. :) Just finished writing chapter twenty four last night! And this morning I had a brilliant idea for a new Supernatural story, so I've just started writing another. But that definitely won't be posted for a long while yet. Anyway, hope you're all enjoying! I really would love to see some more reviews! Reviews = faster updates. :D_


	9. Frustration

**CHAPTER NINE**

"Where are we going?" Kieryn asked with a groan, twirling a long strand of her orangey hair in her index finger and glancing at Dean in the drivers seat beside her.

"I told you that." He said sternly. God, this girl was beginning to give him one hell of a headache. Wow, had Dean just combined the words God and Hell in one sentence? It seemed as though he had.

"No." Kieryn protested firmly, folding her arms over one another and leaning as far back into the leather of the passenger seat as possible. "You said we're going to interview Mrs Donahue. You know what you _should_ have said?"

Dean forced himself to restrain from groaning. "No." He uttered in annoyance. "Enlighten me."

Kieryn grinned brightly. "You should have said, 'oh, it's almost three. Let's go find somewhere to eat.'"

"I'll tell you what I should do." Dean muttered under his breath, the words barely escaping past his lips. If he'd known that working with this girl would be so infuriating beforehand, he would've never signed on for the role of babysitting. Babysitting an impatient, stubborn, irritating amateur. Dean couldn't think of a worse punishment.

"You just passed the freaking diner!" Kieryn cursed suddenly, sitting upright in the passenger seat and gazing out the window as her favourite diner in town rolled right past her window. "Idiot."

Ignoring Kieryn's last remark, Dean swiftly pulled the car over to the curb before pulling an abrupt U-turn and driving back down the way they'd came.

"Next time, a little warning before you try spinning off of the road, yeah?" Kieryn murmured angrily before perking up automatically as Dean's car pulled a tight left into the diner. It was a different one to the one he and Sam had visited two nights before, this one seemed littered with cars all over the small parking square.

As he and Kieryn approached the building, Kieryn leading, Dean trailing behind muttering incoherent curse words, Dean noted the bright neon pink letters along the front strip of the diner reading _El Romeo's_.

Kieryn pushed the double doors of the familiar diner ajar, savouring the fresh scent of bacon and eggs that wafted in the atmosphere. She smiled as she reminisced the few childhood memories she'd had in this very restaurant. Kieryn had grown up her whole life in this town, up until she was 18, of course, when she'd moved away to Lansing to attend university. But four years later it seemed that her home town wanted her back again, and she had been forced to return.

"Kerry! Good to see you back here, girl." The middle-aged waitress greeted as she approached the table Kieryn and Dean were seated at. Kieryn had picked the table of course, Dean thought begrudgingly.

"Hey Michelle!" Kieryn chimed, with matching amount of enthusiasm as the other woman. "This is Dean." She said finally, beckoning toward the man seated across from her. The waitress followed the girls hand and soon her eyes fell upon Dean for the first time since the pair had walked in.

"Oh Kieryn! Picked yourself up a hunky boyfriend while you were away, huh?"

Dean almost choked on the breath he had been holding and he scrambled to cover up his alarm with a quick cough.

Kieryn merely ignored Dean's state of shock, smiling brightly at the other women before nodding accordingly.

Dean cleared his throat and Kieryn's head whipped around immediately, facing him with the hint of a glare that only he would pick up on.

"Yeah, honey?" She said mockingly, smiling sweetly which only made Dean even more infuriated than before. The mental image of him strangling the girl at that moment seemed disturbingly pleasing.

Dean shook away the thought before looking up at the plump brunette waitress before them. "Can I get the breakfast special?" He asked charmingly as the waitress nodded and scribbled down upon the small lined notepad in her grip. "Oh, and a coffee thanks. Black, three sugars." Perhaps a sugary caffeine blast would sweeten his mood. Dean severely doubted it, but it was worth a shot.

"Got quite a sweet tooth this one, hasn't he?" The waitress said to the redheaded girl and Kieryn laughed loudly.

"Michelle, could I get a coffee too? Milk, no sugar," Kieryn started, "and I'll have the breakfast special too, thanks."

"Coming right up." The elder woman said with a sickly sweet smile, strolling off back towards the kitchen to announce their order.

Dean folded his arms over his chest, leaning back into the red cushioned leather of the seat. He was unhappy with this whole deal. If it had been Sam with him, they'd have finished with interviewing the widows of all three victims by now. They'd have talked to the neighbours, the friends and any other relatives of the victims. They'd also have been to the morgue, talked to the coroner about the latest body. All before lunch. So far, being stuck with the stubborn redhead, they'd managed only to interview Mrs McGregor once more and Kellie Trewavas, the hot blonde who had been the girlfriend of victim number two. It had turned out that Kieryn knew Kellie briefly. Her exact words when she heard that Kellie had been the victim's lover consisted of; "_Kellie freakin' Trewavas? I went to high school with that bitch. It should've been her that I ganked, not her man."_ Kieryn's relationship with her had meant that Dean had had to go in alone to interview her. He hadn't minded that one bit. In fact, the quiet had been quite refreshing.

"I say, once we're done with lunch, we head over to the Donahue's place for a little chat before calling it a day. Yeah?" Kieryn took a large slurp from the coffee mug that had just been delivered to her before setting it back down on the plastic tabletop. She watched as Dean's blank expression shrivelled and was replaced with obvious annoyance. Kieryn smirked lightly to herself. Who knew that irritating a man like Dean could prove to be so entertaining? And so easily achievable, too.

"We've still got to visit the morgue." He said gruffly, refusing to make direct eye contact with the girl. He was glancing out of the diner window and watched as the first drop of rain hit the concreted parking area, followed by the ascending rattle as the droplets plummeted down onto the iron roof of the diner.

"In this weather?" Kieryn mumbled, shaking her head. "No way. Bad shit happens in this kind of weather."

Dean huffed out a sigh of frustration, his nostrils flaring as the wafting smell of food grew closer. Just as he looked up, the same waitress from before placed two steaming plates upon the table top, piled with bacon, eggs, hash browns, sausages and a bagel and drizzled with maple syrup.

"Can't Em and Sam go to the morgue instead?" Kieryn begged once the waitress had walked away, forking a mouthful of her food into her mouth while watching Dean with pleading blue eyes.

Dean sighed, grumbling something incoherent to himself. "Look, you're the one who insisted on helping," he lectured, shoving another forkful into his mouth before proceeding to speak with his mouth full, "honey, these are just the perks of the job."

"Last time I checked, you didn't exactly hand me a contract with the list of requirements on it! I didn't know we'd have to visit _dead_ people!"

Dean chuckled darkly. "Fine. You don't want to go in, I'll go in without you. You can sit in the car. Or walk home for all I care."

"No," Kieryn objected quickly, shaking her head furiously. "You're not leaving me behind." As much as she despised the idea of having to visit the morgue, she didn't want to be left out of this. She was just as capable at working alongside these brothers as anyone else. That was a fact she was going to have to strive to prove.

"Fine." Dean murmured. "But don't go complaining when we get in there."

"What exactly am I supposed to be looking for again?" Emerson asked, glancing over at the tall brunette man seated at her dining room table, his head buried deep into the large book propped up in his hold.

"Anything." Sam murmured, failing to remove his gaze for even a second from the fine print of the weathered hardback before him.

Emerson nodded slowly, refocusing her eyes upon the two murder files spread over the shiny planks. She was laying on her stomach on the wooden floor, elbows propped up in order to keep her head high. Before her were the case files of the first two murder victims, the papers from each one scattered accordingly on either side of her, depending on which file they had come from.

In the five hours she had been laying there, relaying over all the police reports, autopsy reports and the information given to her that Sam and Dean had collected from locals the day earlier, she hadn't found a single thing that Sam had praised as helpful evidence. Yet the whole time he had been in Emerson's home since that morning, he had been silent, attention focused solely on the large encyclopaedic looking books and nothing else.

Emerson huffed out a loud, dramatic sigh, scanning over the autopsy report of the first victim one last time.

"Hey, I think I might have something." She said as her eyes finally flicked across an interesting statement in the text.

Sam looked up from his book immediately, his chocolate brown eyes watching Emerson expectantly as she smiled, pulling herself from the floor and strolling over to him to place the autopsy page in front of him.

"You're going to have to give me a little more help than _that._" He mumbled sarcastically as Emerson stood silently.

With his words, she chuckled quietly, pointing toward the sentence that caught her attention moments before, waiting as Sam read it aloud.

"Body was clear of all consumed substances approximately 24 hours before time of death." Sam's brows shrivelled up in confusion as he tried to process the words upon the page. "And that means?"

"The man didn't eat a thing for a whole 24 hours before he died," Emerson explained. "God, who _willingly_ goes that long without food?"

"What does it say for the other victim?" Sam asked, his mind already working in auto-pilot. He watched as the blonde girl scanned the autopsy report of the second victim, her blue eyes alight with heavy concentration, before she grinned triumphantly and pushed the paper toward Sam. "It's the same." He concluded, nodding as his eyes scanned the file once more, coming to the assumption.

"Damn right." Emerson murmured. "Someone must have held these poor guys captive beforehand."

"Kieryn didn't… leave the house at all, the night before these murders. Did she?"

Emerson watched Sam wearily, confusion riddling her tone as she answered as truthfully as she recalled. "No. At least, I don't think she did."

"Good." Sam nodded. "It can't have been her that captured these men the night before, then. Something else must be setting things up before bringing her in to kill them."

Emerson was shaking her head lightly and Sam felt immediate guilt once he sensed the fear behind her blank expression. "I just can't believe we're investigating a crime my _baby sister_ supposedly committed." She sighed, walking away from the dining table and pulling herself up to sit upon the island bench top in the centre of the modern kitchen. "It's just not right."

Sam thought over the blonde girl's words. She was right, it was completely wrong for a woman of her youth, her whole life ahead of her, to be brought to such abnormal lengths in order to save the life of her sister. _No one_ should have to face the things that he and Dean faced every day, yet with each second, someone in the world was losing their innocence entirely and there was nothing that Sam nor his brother could do to stop it. It was just the way of the world.

"No." Sam murmured finally. "It's not."


	10. Confessions

**CHAPTER TEN**

Kieryn followed alongside Dean as they descended through the bustling corridor, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her tan coat. The hallway smelt of misery, a thick, overpowering stench of decay that no amount of air freshener could ever subside. She huddled closer to Dean's side quickly, basking in the odd sense of security being around him gave her and ignoring the confused glance he shot her.

Dean approached the young looking secretary behind the counter, digging his badge from his pocket and nodding for Kieryn to do the same. "FBI, Mam." He said formally, as he and Kieryn held up their fake I.D. in turn. "We'd like to speak with Dr. Kaiser regarding the Brian McGregor autopsy results."

"Go right on through." The woman behind the desk answered, pointing toward the glass double doors and smiling at the pair before diverting her gaze back to her computer.

"Dr. Kaiser?" Dean called as he and Kieryn entered the coroners office, a separate room from where the autopsies took place, much to Kieryn's relief.

Through a door to the left of the office entrance, an elderly man's head poked around, noticing the guests. "Come on in." He said, before disappearing once more behind the doorframe.

"Oh God." Kieryn murmured to Dean, glancing up at him fearfully. "We don't actually have to go in there, do we?"

"Perks of the job." Dean grinned cunningly at the redheaded girl before strolling over toward the entrance to the examination room. Kieryn huffed out a sigh of irritation, muttering something incoherent under her breath before following suit of Dean, bracing herself for a horrid scene as she pushed the door closed again and turned to face the Doctor's work.

Instantly she was taken aback by how _clean_ the room seemed. She'd expected to immediately be greeted with the messy, cut open bodies of multiple pale, stinky corpses, lying upon rusted tin beds alongside steel trolleys holding the bloodied saws and hammers and other various tools found in an autopsy room. But instead, her eyes only located one body, a man's, laying restfully upon a shiny steel elevated tray.

Kieryn let out the breath she had unknowingly been holding, following behind Dean as he approached the corpse, making sure not to look for too long as the Doctor began another incision of the man's chest. She stood behind Dean silently, glancing around the room at anything but the dead man before them.

"First dead body?" Dr. Kaiser asked suddenly, having sensed the girl's weariness. Kieryn realized that he and Dean's eyes were both fixed on her and a blush crept up to her cheeks, staining them pink as she nodded hesitantly. "Now, normally I'd let the first timers hold the heart." As he said this, Kieryn's eyes opened wide with terror and she took a hurried step backward. "But," the doctor continued, "it seems this man's heart has been removed completely."

"Do you have a cause of death, yet?" Dean asked, refocusing the topic. As much as he enjoyed seeing the redhead's discomfort and the silence from her that this whole ordeal had blessed him with, he wanted to get this over and done with as quick as possible. It had been one heck of a long day, and it wasn't even 5 o'clock yet.

"Definitely the slice to the neck." Dr. Kaiser replied. "If it had been cut any deeper, the head would have rolled right off." With this, the man chuckled and Kieryn and Dean shared a weary glance, unsure about what could possibly be amusing about that. "The heart was not removed until after the man had suffered sufficient blood loss."

"What are these?" Kieryn asked, pointing to bruises circling each of the man's wrists.

"Ahh." Dr. Kaiser began, "these are ligature marks. Caused by friction between rope and skin mostly, depending on the material used to tie the victim. In this case, rope was in fact used, as I discovered remnants of rope fibres lodged within a small cut mark on the man's inner wrist."

Dean's eyes widened in realization. "So he was held captive, first?"

"Presumably, yes."

"Could I have a copy of the completed autopsy report sent to me?" Dean asked once the doctor had finished giving the pair a play-by-play of all the wounds the man received during the time of his death. Apparently, severe bruising to his ribcage and torso implied that the man had been beaten sufficiently before the cut to his neck, indicating that he had put on quite a fight. The doctor had also given them his theory that whoever the murderer was, they had to have hit the man with a lot of strength to have left behind such severe internal bruising. A kind of strength that to Kieryn's relief, she could not possibly possess.

"Sure thing." Dr. Kaiser said, holding the door to his autopsy room ajar for the two FBI agents to exit through. "I'll have my secretary send it to FBI headquarters as soon as I'm done with it."

"No!" Kieryn blurted suddenly, before scrambling to find the right words. "Sorry, but we'll need you to be sending it to this address, here." With this she reached for a pen upon the desk in the doctor's office as well as a blank piece of squared noted paper, scrawling her and her sister's house address across it before placing it neatly on top of the doctor's desk.

"Okay then." Dr. Kaiser nodded and Dean spoke the man a quick thank you accompanied by a curt nod, before leaving the office with Kieryn trailing behind.

"That wasn't so bad." Kieryn grinned, her whole demeanour brightening automatically as the pair exited the dull building altogether, crossing the car park in the direction of Dean's Impala.

"Too bad the heart was missing." Dean chuckled, "I would've loved to have seen your face."

"Yeah, yeah." Kieryn mumbled inaudibly, pulling the passenger door of Dean's car ajar and sliding her body inside.

"When was the first time Kieryn sleepwalked?" Sam asked Emerson, purely out of curiosity rather than routine.

After Em's discovery earlier on, she'd insisted on having a well deserved break, and the pair had ended up both lying on the floor of the dining room, each looking up at the ceiling, talking of useless things for the past half an hour or so, drinking Heinekens from the girls' fridge supply. Only now had he plucked up the courage to ask the question itching at his mind all day.

"About 16 months ago." Em replied, straining her memory back to the frantic phone call she'd shared with her sister that first night. "She was at university at the time. In Lansing. I was still here, looking after the house, working part time at a local CD store downtown. Kieryn was always the ambitious one, the one who dreamed of a college life, so that's why she got to go to college while I stayed behind. One of us needed to keep an eye on the house, anyway." With this, Emerson threw her hands up in the air before flopping them back onto the hard floor with a thud.

Sam watched the girl intently, waiting as she let out a deep sigh, her gaze locked solely on the ceiling above her as she began to speak once more, the words filing from her mouth with total ease.

"Anyway. It was some time during November. I remember it was about 1 in the morning when she rang me. I'd been asleep a few hours already because I was supposed to be starting early at work the next morning. I was pissed off, thinking she'd gotten drunk or something and decided to call just to tell me how much she loved me." With this she chuckled, adding, "wouldn't have been the first time either."

Emerson bit her lip, remembering the fear in her sister's voice as she'd spoken. "She told me she'd done something wrong. Wouldn't tell me a thing else, just kept insisting that I leave Petoskey immediately to come and pick her up." She shook her head to rid the forming tears, her blonde hair shaking like ripples with the motion. "When I got there, at about 5am, the police had just arrived on scene. One of the girl's staying in a room just down the hall from her had been killed."

Sam noticed a lone tear creeping down the side of Em's cheek before she had the chance to swipe it away. The _last_ thing she wanted to do was cry in front of this man she hardly knew. She hated even crying in front of her sister, let alone an almost absolute stranger.

Inhaling a deep breath, she willed herself to continue with the story, knowing that once it was out in the open, things could only get better. There was even the possibility that Sam could _help_, along with his brother. Perhaps they could rid Kieryn of this horrible curse and she could go back to school. Their lives could go back to normal.

"I found Kieryn on the _roof_ of the goddamn building. Can you believe that? She climbed through the window onto the freaking roof when the cops pulled up, knowing there would be no way in hell she'd be able to explain how she'd ended up covered in the dead girl's blood.

"She told me all about what she remembered during the drive back to Petoskey. Which was virtually nothing. She remembered going to sleep at 10 and waking up beside the dead girl a few hours later. The knife was on the floor next to her, blood all over the carpet and drenching her t-shirt. That's when she called me. She told me that after that she basically sat in shock for at least two hours before sneaking back down the hallway to her room. Then not long before I arrived she heard a scream and soon after, the cops pulled up. That was about when she climbed onto the roof."

"Whoa." Sam murmured, regretting that it was the only response he could muster. "And she never got caught?"

"I think, after a while, it was just ruled as a suicide. Apparently, the theory fit with the evidence they had. The girl had just been dealing with the death of a long term boyfriend. And Kieryn hadn't left behind a single clue that could have led them back to her."

Sam was amazed at the lengths Emerson had gone through to protect her younger sister. It was incredible how composed she seemed to have been during the time, even though the usual person would have wanted to break down completely, confess, or knock themselves right off the face of the Earth. Sam admired the unbreakable bond the sister's seemed to share, despite Kieryn's obvious strive to hide her feelings, he knew that she must be extremely thankful for the risks Emerson had taken for her. If not, then she was an idiot.

"Do you see your parents at all?" Sam inquired, his gaze drifting back to the blonde girl as she abruptly sat up from her lying position. It was then that he decided he'd probably better do the same.

"Apparently Mom died when I was still in diapers. Dad ditched town not long after that, left us with Uncle Jasper."

So she _did_ know. Sam felt a flood of relief jolt through him at the revelation. "Did your uncle ever tell you how your mother died?" He asked, his words soft with sincerity. He didn't want to alarm Emerson with his invasive questions, but his curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of him.

Emerson seemed unharmed by the question and merely shrugged. "He never said. We never asked."

"So Kieryn knows, then. About your mother's death and your dad leaving?"

"Oh, yeah, she knows. She still denies it as best she can." Em smirked, "but that's just Kieryn for yah. Would rather cover up the truth than deal with it. Until the age of ten she truly believed that Dad had been kidnapped or something. Wouldn't even consider that he'd abandoned us altogether. After that, all she'd say on the matter was that Uncle Jasper's more of a father then our biological one will ever be. But that's easy enough for her to say. She was always Jas and Marie's favourite."

"Is Jasper still around?"

Em's smile fell to a frown as abruptly as the question had left Sam's mouth. "No. He and Aunt Marie were killed in a car accident when I was 18 and Kier was 16. I guess that's another reason I didn't go to college. I was looking after Kieryn until she was old enough to leave home."

"I'm sorry, Em." Sam mumbled, resting his elbows behind him to prop himself up from the wooden floor.

"Nah. Don't fret." Despite her reassuring words, Sam could sense the underlying pain within her tone. Catching gaze with the blonde, Sam's eyes warmed with an unmistakeable expression of sorrow and Emerson immediately flicked her eyes elsewhere while biting down on her bottom lip, hard.

In silence she rose from the floor completely, stretching her arms behind her back briefly before glancing at the clock hung upon the kitchen wall.

"It's half five. Kieryn and Dean sure are taking their time," she muttered, wishing the two would hurry up and get back so she could be rid of the anxiety that filled her. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with the need for a good cleanse and began making her way toward the kitchen and dining room exit. "I'm gonna have a quick shower." She told Sam, turning back around in the doorway to face him, "feel free to make yourself at home." With this, she disappeared around the corner, leaving the bewildered brunette man still seated soundlessly upon the floor of her dining room.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for the lack of action. Necessary bonding time here. :) I would love a review so don't be shy in dropping one. Struggling through a bit of writer's block recently and reviews would probably help to get my creative juices flowing again! Anyway, hope you're all enjoying. Let me know! :D_


	11. Favours

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

"So, did you find out anything useful today?" Sam asked, slipping a forkful of his dinner into his mouth as Dean sat back down at the booth seat opposite him.

"Ligature marks on each wrist," Dean said with a nod, shovelling his own food into his mouth. "I also found out that that goddamn redhead is more of a pain in the arse then I'd ever have guessed."

"Kieryn?" As Sam said this, Dean flinched noticeably, his eyebrows screwing up in frustration as he nodded. Sam chuckled at the thought, again cherishing the way Kieryn's name alone could cause Dean to practically lose his cool on call.

"Seriously, dude," Dean began, speaking through chews on his large mouthful of steak. "Next time, _I'm_ hanging out with the cute blonde."

Sam laughed lightly and sighed, glancing up at his brother. "Dean, you ever thought that maybe she's stubborn and hard headed for a reason?"

"What _reason_?" Dean countered with a snicker, watching as Sam sighed heavily, setting his knife and fork down onto the table and looking up at him with a sudden seriousness engraved in his expression. _Oh no_. Dean was going to get one hell of a lecture now.

"Oh, I don't know, Dean. Perhaps the fact that she went from being a normal girl to skilfully murdering innocent people in her sleep?" Sam slammed as clenched fist down onto the plastic tabletop, his teeth gritted together in annoyance. "I think the attitude is just her way of dealing with the fear."

"So you're defending her now?" Dean smirked iniquitously. "Ooh, Sammy's got a crush on Kieryn!"

Sam laughed at his brother's childish remark, the slightest bit thankful for the lighthearted change in subject. "Yeah, Dean. Real mature," he muttered sarcastically, taking a large swig from his beer bottle and shaking his head in a disapproving manner.

"Anyway, what did you and Em get up to?" Dean asked, his dripping curiosity shining through with the question.

"Research."

"Anything useful?"

Sam shook his head, the hint of a smirk lining his face. "Hardly. But both victims were starved at least 24 hours prior to death."

"That would explain the rope bruises, then," Dean concluded. "Victims must've been held captive without food for at least that long."

"Yeah, that's what we thought." Sam agreed, twirling his metal fork in a circle around his plate.

"Evil son of a bitch this thing must be. Doesn't even have the decency to feed his own goddamn victims!"

Sam smirked at Dean's remark, deciding upon ignoring the irony of his statement and instead starting with a new topic of his own. "Also, Em told me about Kieryn's first sleepwalking incident," he added, knowing Dean would be more than curious to hear the dirt about the girl's past.

As expected, Dean's eyes lit up immediately with the comprehension of Sam's words. "Ooh," he began, eyes widening, obvious smirk playing at his lips. "Tell me more."

Kieryn watched her sister with an unyielding expression as the blonde girl laid a steaming bowl of sloppy spaghetti upon the wooden tabletop, settling herself down on the chair opposite Kieryn without looking up at her once.

"Canned spaghetti, again. Yum," Kieryn murmured sarcastically, speaking mostly to herself as she swirled the bowl's mushy contents around with her fork. "Remind me again why we couldn't just go to the diner with Sam and Dean? Sam did invite us, after all."

Emerson shrugged bleakly, reaching up to grasp her hair. She combed through her blonde tresses with her fingers tugging at the numerous knots that presented themselves with the action. Her hair was still partially damp from the shower she'd had earlier and was moistening the back of her neck to an uncomfortable degree as it draped over the length of her spine. She twisted her thick blonde locks into a messy ponytail, trailing her fingers through the hairs before answering her sister's inquiry in a mocking tone. "Because Dean hates your guts," she replied simply, the hint of a smirk playing at her lips as she formed a mouthful of spaghetti into her mouth, cringing at the slimy texture of her food.  
>"Such an exaggeration." Kieryn chuckled, and all Emerson offered in response was a halfhearted smile. "What's eating Gilbert Grape?" Kieryn asked jokingly upon sensing the solemnity engraved in her sister's dull expression and demeanour, grinning widely as Emerson laughed, the exact reaction to what Kieryn had subconsciously been striving for.<p>

"Ha ha," Emerson murmured, smiling brightly at Kieryn's lame attempt at cracking a joke. As she looked up fro her unappetising meal she realized Kieryn's gaze was focused on her ruthlessly. She was still waiting on a legitimate response and knowing Kieryn, there would be no dodging the question until she was totally satisfied with Emerson's answer.

Emerson let out a loud sigh, scratching the back of her head absentmindedly and setting her fork onto the tabletop, producing a light clang as the metal cutlery hit the hard wood surface. "I'm just tired," she admitted truthfully. "I'm tired of this whole ordeal. I just want whatever's happening to you to stop, so that we can go back to living our lives." After she'd spoken she flung her head backward to rest upon the headrest of the wooden chair, screwing her eyes shut tight.

"Have you been sleeping lately?" Kieryn asked worriedly, watching her sister's distressed actions and feeling horribly guilty for the way things had turned out. Emerson was tired because of _her._ Because of having to care for her freak of a baby sister. She even at times felt partially responsible for her mother's death and her father's disappearance, though she knew deep down that there was no reason she should feel this way.

"Not so much," Emerson said in full honesty, not bothering to cover her misery in any way. She was too worn out for that. Plus, all that researching during the day had only made her a whole lot tireder.

"Bummer."

It was a lame response, the only thing that Kieryn managed to utter in reply. Not one sympathetic word, nor an apology or a reassuring smile. Just a stupid slang word that didn't even begin to cover the guilt and fear that was coursing through Kieryn's blood with every pump of her heart in her chest, every inhaled and exhaled breath. Kieryn could feel life as she knew it changing with every passing second yet knew there wasn't a thing she could do about it. She was the victim here, just as much as Emerson was. Just as much as the men she'd supposedly murdered. She was changing, she was becoming a monster all at the hands of some powerful force that Sam and Dean spoke of with experience. And though she should have offered her sister a sincere 'everything's-gonna-be-alright' speech, she couldn't muster up the right words. Because no words could explicate the mixed up emotions rippling through her body at that precise moment.

Kieryn glanced back down at the untouched meal before her, her appetite erased completely with the overwhelming thrumming of emotions ricocheting off of the walls of her head. Without a word she rose from her perch at the dining room table, escorting her dish from the table and placing it upon the marble countertop. Grabbing her tan coat splayed atop of the kitchen bench and slipping it over her slim frame, she began making her way toward the rooms exit.

"I'm going out," she informed her sister before leaving the kitchen altogether.

Emerson heard Kieryn's words briefly, barely fretting over their meaning at all. She listened as the footsteps grew muffled, the sound of the front door being swung open and closed again, and then silence. Emerson glanced over at the clock pinned upon the adjacent wall, spying the time to be half ten and cursing Kieryn for being stupid enough to leave the house alone during the dark hours. Especially at times like theses.

She waited a few motionless moments before coming to life again, scraping the uneaten spaghetti remains of her and Kieryn's unfinished bowls into the scrap bucket under the sink. As the few forkfuls of spaghetti had failed to satisfy her hunger in the slightest, she buried her head deep in the pantry in search of anything that looked to be reasonably appetising.

Her eyes scanned over an unopened packet of chocolate chip biscuits, a pleasant smile developing on her face immediately. It was safe to say that chocolate chip cookies were her weakness. She snatched them from the cupboard, ripping the plastic covering in two and sliding her fingers into the bag to tug out one of the cookies.

She slipped the delicacy into her mouth before strolling across the room to pull the home phone off of its station on the wall by the exit, dialling in a number a pressing the phone to her ear in wait.

"Hello?" Came a voice through the receiver that Emerson hadn't thought she'd be hearing again until tomorrow.

"Hey, Sam. It's Em."

"Oh, hey," Sam greeted, the shock at her calling him so soon evident in his tone. "What's up? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine." With a quick inhale and exhale of breath she went straight to addressing her true agenda behind calling. "Hey, can I talk to Dean for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam glanced over at his brother on the bed adjacent to his. "One second."

Dean was sprawled across the queen sized bed comfortably and despite the headphones that covered his ears Sam could still hear the loud classic rock playing through the speakers clear as a bell. "Dean!" He called, and when no response was given he jumped off of his own bed, reaching out and tugging the headphones right from his brother's head.

"What the hell?" Dean murmured angrily, glaring up at Sam as though he'd just eaten the last slice of pie.

"Phone." Sam stated simply, tossing his phone at Dean. The phone landed on his chest with a thump.

"Yeah?" Dean answered, pressing Sam's phone to his ear and awaiting the reply of the mystery caller.

"Dean, hey. It's Emerson. Listen, I've got a favour to ask of you."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for the short, crappy filler chapter! And that it took so long! My internet on my laptop is fucked atm and my memory stick wasn't coopertating so I literally retyped this entire chapter just for you guys! Once I'd typed the entire thing, the computer shut down before I could press post! That was a few days ago, and I just haven't had the time to retype it all AGAIN until now. Please excuse spelling/grammar mistakes as I practically typed this entire chapter without looking. I'll edit if necessary when I find the time. This chapter was absolute shit, but the next is one of my favs! If I get a few reviews then I'll post it sooner! :)_


	12. Aspirations

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Kieryn watched the trickles of moonlight bouncing off of the lake, inhaling the sweet scent of peace and serenity that seemed to resonate from the water's surface. She listened intently to her surroundings, her senses awakening more and more with each prolonged second, each inhaled and exhaled breath.

The one thing she'd always cherished most about her hometown of Petoskey was the overwhelming view of Lake Michigan. A stunning scene at day time was even more breathtaking when illuminated by the moon's rays ricocheting from the water's surface, more animated with life as pronounced by the sounds of water swirling, crickets humming, the distant calls of birdlife high up in the treetops that surrounded the lake's edge.

It was upon one of these trees that Kieryn O'Riley sat, perched two metres from the ground below her, her whole body stretched out horizontally and perfectly balanced with ease upon a singular thick branch. Her fingers traced over the name engraved deep into the trees trunk, reminiscing the time when she'd sat in this exact tree at the age of only 16.

_The young redhead stared blankly ahead of her, expression brimmed with the fear and remorse that drenched the unshed tears that were forming in the ducts of her eyes. As she watched, soundlessly, the moon's light was blackened by the passing of a large storm cloud, casting an eerie shadow across the once peaceful lake._

_Kieryn wrapped her arms securely around her legs, hugging them tight to her chest in hopes to rid the cold that was creeping it's way across the exposed skin of her legs, her neck, her face. When the chill failed to subside she cursed inwardly, wishing desperately she'd bought her coat along with her._

_Emerson was looking for her. She could hear her name being called in the distance, yet Kieryn didn't offer a single sound in response that would lead her sister in her direction. She wanted to be alone for the time being. Emerson could grant her that much, couldn't she?_

_She'd have to. Because Kieryn wasn't going back into that house until the bodies were gone._

_Until those stupid people were gone, too. They'd been there all day. Offering their condolences. Bringing casseroles. Kieryn hated casserole, for one thing. And she hated pity. Pity was all that those people were truly offering._

_Telling her how Uncle Jasper had loved her very much. How they were so _sorry_ for her loss. Kieryn didn't need a stranger to tell her about how much of a great man her uncle had been. Or how great a cook Aunt Marie was._

_She'd heard their whispers after the service, heard their spoken words to each other about how much of a tragedy the whole ordeal was. "Damn shame," "they were both so young," "poor girls." The young redhead just couldn't wait until the whole thing was over, until the service was done with altogether and those stupid people all went home. Then the bodies would be gone, too. Buried under six feet of solid dirt. She could go back to living her life like normal. Only, things wouldn't be normal from now on._

_All these thoughts bought a heavier formation of tears to well at the ducts of her eyes. She swiped them away quickly, instinctively. That was just another thing Kieryn hated. Crying._

_With the reappearance of the moon's light from behind the dark cloud came an idea that struck Kieryn like a lightening bolt. She knew things would be different from now on and it seemed as though leaving behind a trace of her old self was the only thing she could do to hold on to life as she knew it._

_Kieryn twisted around on the thick trunk of the tree, scooping her Swiss Army knife from her shorts pocket and flicking the knife from it's socket. Immediately she set to work, carving with the expertise of determination the first letter of her name, followed by the second and the third, until her whole name was engraved into the tree's trunk, entwining her with the tree itself._

She had been young, naïve at the time. She had thought that scraping her name into a goddamn tree would alter the path of her future. Would somehow make life that much more bearable. Thought that Uncle Jasper and Aunt Marie would have wanted her to be faithful for a happier life.

But of course she had been wrong. Faith for a better life had only given her that opportunity and then stripped it away from her entirely, leaving her cursed and an even heavier burden upon her poor sister.

"Kieryn."

Above her cursive thoughts, Kieryn could have sworn she'd heard the echo of her name across the grassy lake front.

"Kieryn!"

Again came the call, louder this time as though approaching rapidly. She _hadn't_ been imagining it. Someone really was calling her.

Kieryn's logicality kicked in immediately as another call of her name followed the last. Emerson must be looking for her. She would have known Kieryn would walk to the lakefront during a time of distress. Though Kieryn felt Emerson couldn't possibly understand her at all, she sure had a knack for knowing Kieryn's habits at the best of times. And the worst.

"Kieryn! Where the hell are you?" With these words Kieryn realized instantly that it was not her sister calling her. The voice was a man's, gruff with impatience as he searched for her at ground level. He sure wasn't going to find her down there.

Kieryn pried herself from the tree's trunk, bracing herself before leaping from the security of the treetop.

"Oh my God!" Dean gasped in shock as the figure emerged from through the tree leaves above him, hitting the ground with a skilful ease, merely centre metres away from landing on him entirely. Dean staggered backward slightly, swiftly pulling his silver gun from his back pocket and aiming it directly at the darkened figure who had just jumped out right before him.

"You squeal like a girl," Kieryn said, as she lifted her body from her crouch on the ground, letting out a light chuckle as realization hit the man hard within a second. "Pulling your gun out on me again? You seem to be doing that an awful lot lately," she grinned cunningly, crossing her arms over her chest to watch him smugly.

Dean grinned sheepishly, watching Kieryn with astonishment while flicking the safety switch on the gun back in place and sliding it down the back of his pants. "Maybe you should quit catching me off guard then, huh?" Dean smirked humorously, watching the girl. The moonlight streamed down upon her, illuminating her hair a vibrant orange in contrast to her pale ivory skin tone that seemed to glow in the eerie luminance.

"Emerson sent you, didn't she?" With her words, Dean nodded, chuckling as Kieryn immediately cursed under her breath in annoyance. "Goddamn it." She muttered, abruptly spinning around to face the lake view once more, plopping herself down onto the ground. Once settled upon the trimmed grass, Kieryn pulled her legs up to her chest, snaking her arms around them to lock them tight to her torso. She let out a loud sigh, closing her eyes and resting her forehead upon her knees. "I love her, but I swear to God, sometimes she annoys the crap out of me."

Dean laughed loudly, the noise casting an echo across the abandoned lakefront. With the noise came his sudden motion toward her, planting himself down on the ground beside the girl and watching the still water before them. "She's just looking out for you." Dean said sincerely, eyes still glued ahead of him. A slight rustling caught his attention and he twisted around quickly, spying through the tree trunks scattered at random across the whole foreland of the lake.

"What is it?" Kieryn asked, watching Dean sceptically until his tense posture eased at last and he turned back to face her.

"Just thought I heard something." He muttered, almost totally incoherently, casting another glance behind him before turning back around to face the lake. His ears were trained for hearing things that Kieryn wouldn't even notice at all. But the likelihood of something lurking behind one of the large trees was minimal at present and that knowledge eased his senses almost entirely. But not completely, of course.

"So why did Em ask _you_ to come and get me?" Kieryn asked out of the blue, watching the sandy haired man from the corner of her eye as he refused to cast even one glance her way. She knew about Dean's disliking toward her; the two had butted heads every second they'd spent together so far. Yet despite this it seemed her sister had picked the most unlikely candidate to retrieve her and take her home. Plus, they had only known these two men for a few days now and Emerson was already trusting one of them with her safety?

"She said you'd be more likely to listen to me than her at this point." Dean replied, interrupting the flow of Kieryn's thoughts. "And don't ask me what the hell that's supposed to mean, cause I ain't got a freaking clue."

Kieryn chuckled lightly at Dean's words, a half-grin developing upon her face. "She was right. If she had come to get me, there would've been no way I would have got out of that tree."

"Why not? Did you two have a fight or something?" Dean asked, his tone reeking with confusion.

"No. Not really." Kieryn replied truthfully, recalling the short, average conversation she'd had with her sister before up and leaving. "We just don't exactly have the best relationship in the books. I needed space."

"So you came _here_?" Dean asked in awe, looking out at the eerie lake water and up at the starless black sky with the hint of a shiver. It wasn't exactly the most comforting place he could think of.

Kieryn nodded, watching Dean with lack of understanding. "Yeah?" The word came out as more of a question than an answer and she decided to continue. "The water calms me. I guess."

"Right. The water calms you." Dean murmured. "And there's nothing freaky about that at all." These words he uttered so quietly that they escaped Kieryn's comprehension altogether.

"What?" She inquired, but Dean merely shook the matter away with a subtle flick of his hand in the air. Shrugging to herself, she proceeded with her explanation. "Anyway. I haven't really seen much of anyone but Emerson since I got back from college last year. Sometimes, getting away from her for a while is like medicine. Cleanses me."

Dean nodded, processing through her words while watching Kieryn from the corner of his eye. "You went to college?" He asked finally, realizing that that knowledge was new to him.

"Yep." She nodded, popping the 'p' on her lips. "Studied architecture in Lansing for close to four years before the first sleepwalking episode struck."

"Architecture." Dean mused with a slow nod. "Interesting."

"Sure was." Kieryn agreed, her smile falling as she reminisced her past dreams and aspirations that had all gone down the toilet. "It was all I ever wanted to do. Design buildings and skyscrapers that could lift people as far from ground level as possible."

Dean smirked at the girl, though her gaze was fixed upon the lakefront, wearing a grim expression upon her features. "What have you got against ground level?" He asked jokingly though Kieryn seemed to fail at catching the light-heartedness of his response.

"Shit happens on earth. People die every second upon this very soil. People are buried every second beneath it." Kieryn rubbed at her eyes with a clenched fist, opening them wide again and welcoming in the view of the man to the right of her, watching her with the most fascinated expression she'd ever seen him wear. "I just feel like life would be better up there." With this she cast a long glance above her at the black sky.

"What, like, in heaven?" Dean asked bewilderedly.

Kieryn chuckled. "Not necessarily."

A smile ignited upon Dean's face without his consent, though there was no followed attempt to rid it. Dean was amazed at the way he no longer felt the urge to strangle the girl. Though saying that he liked her as a person at this point was a little too soon. He was _tolerating _her. That was a start, at least. Right?

"You and Sam, you can help us, right?" Kieryn asked softly, catching Dean off guard once again. As Dean's gaze fixed upon her once more he realized she was staring at him intently, waiting for his reply with solemnity engraved into her features.

"Yes." He murmured, despite not believing his answer entirely. If Sam and Bobby's belief that the yellow eyed demon was somehow behind all this was true, then Kieryn was definitely in more trouble than she realized. Perhaps even more trouble then Sam and Dean could handle.

"Good." She mumbled in reply. She watched as Dean pulled his cell phone from his brown leather jacket, glancing at the screen for a brief moment before slipping it back into his pocket.

"Half eleven." Dean told her, plucking himself from the moist grass to stand upright.

Kieryn followed his motion, rising from the ground herself and trailing behind as Dean began making his way back toward his Impala parked roadside 100 metres away.


	13. Satisfaction

_A/N: Hey there. :) Just wanted to quickly say thank you to the people who are reading this! I was hoping I'd get a few more reviews than I have been getting but oh well. I'm still enjoying writing this story heaps. So yeah, if you're reading, I would absolutely lovelovelove a review. I want to be able to improve my writing and this story in any way I possibly can, but I need your help to do that! Anyway, enjoy!_

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THIRTEEN<strong>

The car ride back to Kieryn's home was silent but for the classic rock pulsating through the speaker system of Dean's Impala. Kieryn made point to keep her gaze fixed upon the view outside her window to the right and Dean didn't even bother attempting to spark up a conversation.

Dean's car pulled over alongside the curb and within a second the engine was silenced altogether, leaving the only sound to be that of their slow breathes. Kieryn unclipped her seatbelt swiftly, turning in the passenger seat to face Dean completely.

"Thanks." She murmured, biting her bottom lip and then uttering, "see yah tomorrow, loser," with a cunning grin upon her face. Before Dean could even register her words, she was pushing the car door open and sliding outside.

_That's it_. He still totally despised her. "Bitch," Dean muttered in annoyance, though the passenger door was already slammed closed and Kieryn was making her way up the darkened pathway to her home.

"Em?" Kieryn called, slipping her small figure through the door frame and closing the door as softly as possible.

Emerson appeared at the end of the hall within a second of her sister's call, her eyes brimmed with concern. "Kieryn, I hate it when you run off like that," she murmured, smiling light heartedly as Kieryn shrugged her warm coat from her shoulders and hung it over the coat rack to the left of the front door.

"Yeah, yeah," Kieryn mumbled mockingly, tugging the shoe from her left foot and grinning wildly. Glancing back up at her sister deviously, Kieryn wrenched her arm back behind her head before launching it forward, sending the black shoe flying through the 10 metres that separated them.

"What the hell?" Emerson yelled, grinning uncontrollably as she barely managed to dodge the flying converse just in time. The shoe landed upon the third step of the staircase behind her and Emerson rapidly plucked it from the stair, turning around in preparation to haul the shoe back at her sister. But by that time, Emerson just caught a flash of orange hair disappearing around the corner into the kitchen and dining room of the home.

She could hear Kieryn's stifled laughter from the other room and began laughing hysterically herself as she raced down the short hallway and into the kitchen.

"I surrender!" Kieryn grinned, clutching her stomach with one arm in attempt to stop the pain that came with each hysterical giggle that escaped her, while holding her other arm in the air in defeat.

Emerson let out another chuckle, shaking her head with a sly smile printed upon her face. "It doesn't work like that."

Kieryn yelped as the shoe came flying toward her. She ducked behind the kitchen bench in the nick of time and the shoe hit the wall behind her with a thud.

Her sister's continuing laughter caused a smile to ignite upon Kieryn's fair face and she lifted herself from the floor, catching sight of Emerson leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen's exit.

"That was strangely entertaining." Emerson chuckled with a grin that matched Kieryn's own.

"And satisfying," Kieryn said cheekily. "Did I hit you?"

Emerson crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head smugly. "Not even close."

"Liar," Kieryn murmured playfully. Her attempt in lightening the situation had worked perfectly. All with the throwing of a shoe. Kieryn couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of that statement.

"You're awfully cheery," Emerson observed suddenly, plopping herself down upon one of the barstools lining the kitchen bench. Kieryn turned away from her sister's interrogating stare, tugging open the door of the fridge and poking her head inside.

"And you're not?" She countered lightly, pulling out the plastic milk container and settling it down onto the bench alongside the fridge.

Emerson wasn't surprised at her sister's attempt at changing the angle of the conversation. She had a tendency to try to dodge discussing her emotions in any way she possibly could. Trying to stay completely patient and calm, Emerson shook her head, smile lit up on her face. "I mean, you seem a lot happier coming home than you did when you just ran off earlier."

"Oh yeah?" Kieryn said, raising her eyebrows in turn. Grabbing her glass, topped off with milk, and the milk bottle, she quickly set the container back into the fridge before strolling toward the large dining table and settling herself down on one of the chairs.

"Yeah." Emerson spun around in the bar seat to face Kieryn, seated at the dining table. "Dean drop you off?"

"Sure did," Kieryn mumbled, taking a sip from her glass of milk. "Though I don't think he was entirely happy with the arrangement."

Em chuckled. "Sounds about right. Sam told me about the little spiff going on between Dean and yourself."

"Yeah?" Kieryn asked with a smile. Her sister's sudden chirpiness was refreshing compared to the normal stressed out Emerson that Kieryn was used to seeing. "What's Sam like? I haven't really had much of a chance to talk to him yet."

"Sam's cool," Emerson mused. "He's pretty quiet." Em's gaze flickered to the floor as she thought over the easy conversations she'd shared with the brunette man earlier that day. "He was at college, like you. Stanford, I think he said. Until their father went missing and he was forced to leave to go on the road with Dean, bit over a year ago."

Kieryn nodded in response, taking another large gulp from her milk and settling it back down onto the wooden tabletop. "What?" She asked in confusion as Emerson watched her, laughing softly.

Em bit her lip back in attempt to stifle her laughter. "Nice moustache," she managed finally, grinning wickedly as Kieryn swiped at her upper lip with the hint of a scowl.

Spying the time on the kitchen clock to now be past midnight, Kieryn rose from her perch at the dining table, transferring her glass to the marble bench top before strolling toward the room's exit. "Night, Em," she called over her shoulder.

Emerson smiled brightly, watching as her sister exited the room. "Night!" She chorused loudly, her smile stretching into a grin as Kieryn's muffled laughter sounded from down the hallway.

"Dean!"

Dean was awoken by the sound of his name being spoken and almost as abruptly as he'd heard it, a pair of hands gripped each of his shoulders, shaking him roughly.

Groaning, Dean made a lame attempt at turning onto his side, only to fail miserably as the hands clasped him even tighter, shaking his eyes open slowly.

"Finally," Sam murmured with a chuckle, turning around and walking away from his newly awoken brother.

"What time is it?" Dean moaned, rubbing at his eyes furiously before widening them once more. Light streamed in through the window at the front of the motel room and Dean quickly pulled his arm back up to cover his eyes from the blinding glare.

Sam scooped his boots from the floor beside his bed. "Nine." He informed Dean, slipping his shoes onto his feet over his socks and proceeding to tie the laces with ease. "Get up. We're meeting the girls for breakfast in half an hour."

"What? Why?" Dean asked, sitting upright in his bed and glancing over at Sam on the bed opposite as though he were insane.

"To chat about puppies and kittens and the good old days," Sam mumbled sarcastically.

"Oh, ha ha, Sammy," Dean chided, muttering a few incoherent curse words under his breath while Sam rose from his bed, grabbing Dean's duffel bag from the foot of the bed and tossing it at his brother.

"Hurry up."

"Hey guys." Sam looked up in time to see the blonde girl sliding into the booth seat opposite what he and Dean were seated upon. Emerson grinned sheepishly as the two brother's shot her a curt nod in return.

"Morning, Em." Sam greeted, smiling faintly and searching for what seemed to be missing in their reunion. "Where's Kieryn?" He asked finally, noticing the absence of the redhead for the first time.

"She's coming." Emerson assured, choosing to ignore the obvious look of disappointment that fashioned Dean's face in an instant.

Merely moments later, Kieryn's voice chimed through the small, bustling diner clear as a bell. "Hey guys!" She plopped herself down onto the seat beside her sister, grinning widely. "Top of the morning to yah!" With this, she saluted each of the boys in turn while Dean smirked cunningly.

"Oh, how wonderful to see you again." He mumbled sarcastically, failing to look up from the menu held in his hands.

Kieryn stuck her tongue out at Dean for a brief second before scooping a menu from the tabletop and beginning to scan through the list of possible meals herself.

"So what's the game plan for today?" Emerson asked the burning question at last once the quartet had all ordered their selected breakfast and the waitress had left their tableside entirely.

"Honestly?" Sam grinned inwardly, screwing his eyebrows the slightest. "I have no clue."

Kieryn snickered faintly. "Well, that's comforting." She muttered, her tone reeked with unmistakeable sarcasm.

"Oh yeah?" Dean confronted, shooting the redhead an unyielding expression. "You got any ideas then, smartass?"

"Actually, yes." Kieryn smirked, glaring at Dean with a matching look of determination. "The three victims all attended church. Now, there's only two churches in Petoskey, so I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that they all went to the same one."

"You're right. That is wild." Dean mocked, almost inaudibly.

Sam spoke up, ignoring his brother's immaturity altogether. "If you're right, then we should definitely check out the church."

"Alright. Sam and Kerry can investigate this church," Dean said, before any more plans could be made for him. Hanging out with Emerson was a far more satisfying concept than that of being stuck with the annoying redhead again. Plus, Dean wanted to see how Sam would handle Kieryn's annoying habits and queries for an entire day, like how Dean had been forced to endure in his time with her the day before.

"Really, Dean?" Kieryn asked with a sneer. "You don't want to come with me instead? I mean, after all that fun we had yesterday?" Despite the teasing question, Kieryn didn't mind the idea of hanging out with Sam for a bit. A change of scenery would be good for her. And probably for Dean, too. It seemed that if he spent too much longer alone with the stubborn redhead he would go completely nuts.

Dean tapped his chin with his index finger in a gesture of mock consideration. "Nah, I'll pass." He smirked finally, raising his eyebrows high into his forehead.

"Anyway," Emerson began, interrupting Kieryn and Dean's argument. "If Sam and Kier are checking out the church, then what does that leave for us to do?"

Dean shot a glance in Emerson's direction, a devious grin fashioning his face in an instant as he conjured up all the ways he could possibly answer that question.

"You guys can hit the library."

Dean's smile fell the second he heard his brother's words. "No, not research!" He groaned, slamming a clenched fist down onto the hard plastic tabletop.

Sam chuckled, nodding. "Oh yes. Research."


	14. Thieving

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

"I can't believe I got stuck doing this," Dean grunted, as he and Emerson made their way together up the short pathway to the library. The sliding doors opened the second the were two metres from it and they entered in unison, automatically wrapped in the warmth of the large enclosed room.

The library wasn't all that big and it was the only one in Petoskey. From the moment they walked in Dean could see at least 20 long rows of shelves, all parallel, leading directly to the other side of the room. The fact that he could actually _see_ the far wall of the library was indication enough that it sure as hell was a small building. His eyes couldn't locate any staircases leading up to a possible second floor anywhere either.

"I was stuck doing research all day yesterday, too," Emerson countered with a smile, leading the pair's ascent through the rows and rows of books toward the mythology section. "So don't go complaining to me."

The blonde girl came to a halt near the far end of the library, the third row from the left. Evidence that they'd reached their location was given with the bold block lettered sign dangling above the shelf, reading _Mythology Resource Section._

"You'll have to help me out here, considering I have no clue as to what I'm actually supposed to be looking for," Emerson said, scraping her index finger along each of the books lined in a long row across the top shelf.

Dean nodded, his eyes scanning over all the titles presented vertically down the spines of each book. _Sam should be doing this, not me;_ he thought hastily, wondering where on earth he could possibly start among all the large hardbacks available.

Spying a large, brown, weathered hardcover on the bottom row, Emerson pulled it out, examining the book thoroughly. The fact that it looked decades old had been what had attracted her attention to it; the leather cover was ripped and distressed down the entire spine, the colour now a dull, faded brown due to obvious aging. No words were printed upon the cover and Emerson flipped the book open to a random section. The ink was blotched and smudged in areas over the page, the linked handprint filling each space of the yellowed paper messily, words scattered and clammed in everywhere. Scrawled at the top of the page in messy handwriting, Emerson read _Possession of the Mind,_ the eerie title alone causing a chill to race through her spine.

"Possession of the mind," Dean mused, glancing over the girl's shoulder at the large tome held in her hands. "Bingo."

"Left," Kieryn directed bluntly, watching as the brunette man in the driver's seat spun the steering wheel to a tight left, gliding into the enclosed parking space of the Petoskey Church Of Christ and ceasing the car's juddering engine.

"Original name for a church," Sam mumbled sarcastically, spying the name printed upon the white signpost. Unclipping their seatbelts and exiting the car in unison, Kieryn and Sam began making their way toward the church edifice. The building was white and shared exactly the image that you would expect to see from a small town church; horizontal panelling lining the entire structure of the building, a grey slated roof leading up to a towering peak in the centre, holding up the large white crucifix that gestured toward the blue sky above them.

The pair approached the building side by side, etching up the smooth concreted steps to the ajar double doors. Sharing a quick glance with Kieryn, Sam stepped through the doorframe, entering the building hesitantly as Kieryn followed one step behind. The inside was grand, the ceiling towering far above their heads, wide wooden beams leading up to the centre spine of the interior roof. Wooden bench seats lining the entire inside of the building, parted down the centre to provide a walkway through to the large podium, centred right down the far rear of the interior. Sam admired the exquisite detailing of the numerous murals that clung to the outer walls of the church as he and Kieryn descended through the aisle toward the figure seated with their back to them upon the very front bench.

"Oh, fuck it," Kieryn cursed suddenly, stopping dead in her tracks. Sam halted immediately, turning to face the redheaded girl, watching sceptically as she began patting the pockets of her coat and pants in search of something beneath the layers of clothing that hugged her frame.

"You just swore in a church." Sam said with a chuckle as Kieryn looked up at him, biting her lip culpably. "What is it?"

A sheepish smile fashioned Kieryn's face as she replied. "I left my badge in the car," she murmured, holding her hand out, "keys? I'll go grab it. Be back in a minute. You go talk to the priest, okay?" With this she nodded her head toward the man still oblivious to their presence, seated at least 10 metres away with his back turned.

Sam nodded, sifting through the pocket of his navy blazer for the car keys before passing them over to Kieryn. She shot him one last smile before hurrying back through the aisle toward the church's exit.

"Excuse me?" Sam said politely as he approached behind the man. The priest turned around in his seat quickly, eyeing Sam through the small spectacles balanced upon his delicate looking nose. His skin was pale and wrinkled, thin strands of white hair sprouted from the top of his head. "I'm agent Warner, with the FBI. I'm investigating the murders of Ian Donahue, Jason Magnus and Brian McGregor."

The priest nodded slowly with each name that Sam announced. "Yes. They were all weekly attendants here."

"Did they know each other?"

The elder man nodded, his brows furrowing together as he strained his memory. "I believe so. Though I didn't know them all so well. They'd only just begun attending here around three months ago."

"They all joined at the same time?"

"Yes," the priest said with a curt nod. "I believe it was after the death of a close friend of theirs. Their grief led each of them into the lord's forgiving hands."

Sam frowned as he thought over the man's words, an idea igniting in his mind. "This friend of theirs that passed away; do you happen to have his name?"

Kieryn couldn't understand why being inside that church had given her a sense of uncertainty and anxiety upon the highest scale she'd ever experienced in her life. She had known she had to get out of their the second they had entered and with each second she had spent inside her heartbeat had increased in speed.

Cherishing the sunlight that beat down on her the moment she exited the building, Kieryn inhaled a breath of the fresh Spring breeze while making a direct beeline toward Dean's Impala. Sam had done a lot of prodding and persuading before Dean had finally, yet totally reluctantly, handed him over the keys for the day. With that fact, Kieryn knew she was going to be in deep shit with the stunt she was about to pull. Yet in knowing this, she didn't hesitate for one second as she shoved the keys into the ignition and pulled out of the church car park, speeding off down the street without even a shared glance in the rear view mirror.

"Found anything?" Dean asked for at least the tenth time since that morning. It had to have been at least noon by now and Emerson had spent the entirety of the two hours they'd spent there with her head buried in the large book she'd discovered earlier. Dean, on the other hand, had spent at least half of that time twiddling his thumbs, and the other half of it in watching the blonde girl, on some occasions even attempting to ignite some sort of a conversation with her. But Emerson's focus had been so ruthlessly enthralled by the tome held open in her arms that she hadn't looked up once to answer Dean's probing questions.

"Maybe," she said finally, after a few prolonged moments of Dean waiting impatiently for a response. Lifting her head to meet the sandy haired man's gaze, Emerson shoved the book across the tabletop toward him. "Here," she murmured, trailing her index finger over the paper, and Dean's eyes followed her indication, perusing through the words she had indicated.

"It is believed by individuals with certain experiences, that…" Dean trailed off slowly as the print upon the page grew intriguingly convincing. "Spirits?" The word came out in a totally disbelieving tone that perfectly matched the confusion that conquered Dean's expression.

"I don't know," Em mumbled with a chuckle, "you're the expert here. I'm just a student."

"The theory fits. I guess."

Emerson nodded, pulling the book back toward herself and examining the scruffy print in question once more. "You think it's possible? Say, some spirit is projecting its anger onto Kieryn's subconscious, forcing her to carry out its will?"

"It's a new one for me," Dean stated, scratching the back of his neck and leaning further back into the cushioned backrest of the chair. "But it doesn't explain the Sulfur at the crime scene."

"Sulfur?" Emerson inquired, her brows furrowing in confusion. What did _Sulfur_ have to do with anything here? She couldn't even conjure up one possible answer to that question.

"It's a trace left behind by demons."

Dean watched as the blonde girl nodded slowly, glancing at him as though he were utterly insane. "Of course. _Demons._"

A smirk developed upon Dean's face as he examined the weary expression the girl held. This all had to be weighing down on her a tonne, but she sure was doing one hell of a job at hiding it. Her and her sister at that. "I know all of this must be hard to believe, but if it's any consolation, you're doing amazingly well at handling things. Freakishly well, in fact."

"Thanks, I guess," she murmured in reply, smiling faintly up at the handsome man seated opposite her. Dean gazed back at the girl with an unfathomable depth of sincerity hidden within the green of his eyes.

The sudden playing of Dean's ring tone broke their eye contact as Dean reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing his cell phone out and flipping it open. "Sam. What's up?"

"Dean, Kieryn's gone!"

"_What_?" Dean chided, the intensity of his tone causing Emerson's gaze to flicker up to meet his immediately.

Sam cleared his throat before continuing in a desperate spiel. "She ran off! Well, drove off. She took the Impala!"

"She took the Impala?" Dean could barely restrain himself from yelling and had to clear his throat in order to continue to voice his irritation. "I'm going to kill that little bitch!" He muttered through gritted teeth, quiet enough that Emerson wouldn't hear his harsh words.

"Ask Em if there's any specific place she might have gone," Sam ordered, ignoring his brother's threat altogether.

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, glancing over at the blonde girl frantically. "Your sister stole my car," he stated matter-of-factly, giving no time for Emerson to voice anything past the shocked gasp she offered, for he was proceeding before she could even form words upon her lips. "Is there anywhere you think she may have gone with it?"

Emerson raked her mind desperately, trying to muster up any rational answers to his demand. "Not that I can think of," she said finally, shaking her head disappointedly. "God, she stole your _car_?"

"Apparently so," Dean muttered angrily before pushing the phone to his ear once more. "We've got nothing."

"Damn it," Sam cursed in frustration. "Right, she'll have to go home sometime, right? Should we just hang out there until she turns up?"

"I guess it's all we can do," Dean answered, though he despised the idea of sitting around while some chick was driving around the place in _his_ baby. Slamming his phone to a close, Dean looked over at Emerson who was eyeing him curiously, waiting for an explanation of some sort. "Come on. We're leaving," he told her, rising from his seat and charging back through the aisles of books in the direction of the exit.

"Wait!" Emerson called, jogging after him until she reached his side. "Should I issue this?" She asked expectantly, beckoning to the large hardback she was clutching within her delicate grasp.

"Do it quick," Dean muttered and with his words Emerson raced over toward the library reception desk, shoving past a few bedazzled citizens along the way.

When Emerson remerged through the library doors she spied Dean leaning against the passenger door of her uncle's old Mustang, his fingers thrumming against the metal roof as he awaited her impatiently.

"I'm sorry about Kieryn," Emerson said, once they were both seated inside the car and she was beginning to pull out of the library's car park. "I don't know what goes on in that head of hers sometimes."

"It's not your fault." Dean grumbled, visually picturing himself strangling the redheaded girl and almost smiling at the thought. "You think she's doing this just to annoy the freaking crap out of me? Cause she's doing a bloody good job so far."

"Well, she's a bloody idiot. The girls' got some issues, I'll tell you that."

Dean chuckled the slightest at Emerson's words, watching her incredulously. "Didn't know you'd say such a thing about your own sister."

"Well, then you just don't know me," she replied, casting Dean a devious smirk before redirecting her gaze onto the road ahead.

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><p><em>AN: Hey there. Thanks for reviews on the last chapters. I'd still like to see more... So please don't hold back on your opinions about this story so far. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed._


	15. Instinct

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Kieryn choked back the sob threatening to break from her, examining the dark stains that enveloped the entirety of the room. The blood, though it had been scrubbed and scrubbed at, was still easily visible against the pale linoleum tiles and in thick, painted streaks across the once white walls. The centre of the room was where the stain grew darkest, where the pool of red had soaked through the inlays and drenched the wood beneath, a permanent souvenir of the blood that had been spilled in that direct spot.

She couldn't believe that the blood shed here had been at her hands. She_ wouldn't _believe it, for the concept frightened Kieryn more than anything in her life. Her gut instinct was screaming at her for even considering the absurdity of the idea. She _couldn't_ have hurt this man, nor the two before him. And she _couldn't_ have hurt that girl over a year before.

Though Kieryn knew that she had no logical justification to how she couldn't possibly have committed these crimes. Sam and Dean had caught her red handed, literally, outside the crime scene, dazed and drenched all over. Despite their notion that Kieryn wasn't mentally behind it all, she knew they still believed it to have been _her,_ physically, who had killed these people. But Kieryn couldn't even believe _that_.

Huffing a loud sigh in attempt to calm the rapid pace of her fears, Kieryn slowly crouched to the ground until her bottom hit the floor. She collapsed entirely then, relaxing her body completely and leaning her back against the closed door. As she stared miserably at the scene before her, a single tear rolled down her pale cheek and she wiped it away with the cuff of her coat. Yet the motion was useless, for the tears continued to fall in rivers down the sides of her face, and Kieryn soon gave up on resisting them altogether.

"I'm going to kill her," Dean muttered, pacing through the girl's dining room. "If there's a scratch on my car, then she's _dead_!"

"Dean, calm down." Sam watched his brother's anxious state from his perch at the dining table, sharing a weary glance with the blonde girl seated beside him. Sam was actually beginning to fear for the redheaded girl's life, as he knew that his brother's words were the truth. If that car was damaged in any shape or form, she was going to get it. Sam made a mental note to hide the guns.

"I am calm!" Dean screamed, his face instantly fashioning a guilty expression before he added, "oops."

Sam and Emerson shared a chuckle on Dean's behalf while the older man continued to stride up and down through the large room. Sam glanced at his watch before huffing out a deep sigh. "It's five. We've been waiting here over four hours."

"Goddamn it," Dean muttered, slamming his fist down upon the marble bench top as he passed it.

"I'm really sorry, Dean," Emerson said contritely, eyes trailing behind the man. He was absolutely furious. Emerson couldn't think of a single reason as to why her sister would be _stupid_ enough to mess with this guy's pride and joy. And where the hell could she have gone? Emerson had already driven a whole round through town, including past the lakefront, and hadn't spotted the 67' Chevrolet Impala anywhere. Emerson was beginning to fear that her sister had skipped town altogether.

Dean came to a sudden halt, his ears perking up to the hint of a juddering engine. Without a word he raced toward the front door, swinging it open and hurriedly dashing outside.

"Kieryn!" Dean screamed, upon seeing his familiar sleek black car rolling into the driveway of the O'Rileys' home. He stormed down the porch steps toward the drivers door, where the redheaded girl was just sliding out of the car. In her half motion Dean grabbed at her shoulders, tugging her away from the vehicle altogether.

"Shit, Dean," Kieryn murmured, glancing at him incredulously as he stared back at her with a burning intensity in his green eyes. His face was centre metres from her own as he clasped her shoulders tightly, constraining her completely so that she had nowhere to look but directly into his widened eyes. "I'm sorry, okay. I just-"

"Rule number one, Kieryn." Dean spoke through gritted teeth, pausing for a long intake of breath before continuing. It was taking up all his energy just to restrain himself from ripping the girl's head off then and there. "_Never_ mess with my car!"

"Alright!" Kieryn agreed forcedly, shoving herself away from Dean's stern grasp and rushing toward the front steps of the house. Sam and Em were standing idly at the door, watching Kieryn and Dean's argument play out just how they'd expected things to go down. Kieryn deserved a good lecture about all the danger her stupid, reckless stunt could have put them in. But with the way Dean was practically steaming at the ears as he inspected every possible angle of his car top to bottom, it didn't look as though he would be the one giving Kieryn a friendly, understanding talk.

As Kieryn passed Sam she tossed the car keys in the air before him without a warning. Sam swiped the keys from the air with a clink, spinning around to watch Kieryn's figure disappearing through the doorframe and charging straight down the hallway.

"I'll talk to her," Emerson said to Sam, glancing up at him with a grave expression. "You just make sure Dean doesn't have a heart attack or anything." With this she turned away from Sam to re-enter the home and follow her sister's trail.

"What the hell was she thinking?" Dean yelled, striding towards his brother, who was leaning his left shoulder against a white, wooden beam at the front of the small porch.

Sam merely shrugged, earning an incredulous look from Dean as he stopped short of the front door. Going inside right now probably wasn't the best idea. He'd probably just find himself knocking down furniture and smashing anything in sight. "But of course the most important question is; how the _hell_ did she get a hold of the keys in the first place?"

"Well…" Sam gulped, grinning guiltily as Dean shot him a petulant glare. "I kind of… gave them to her."

Dean gritted his teeth together forcefully, in order to restrain himself from yelling at his younger brother. His impulsively clenched fists didn't help his attempt to calm down in the slightest. "You're lucky that my car's not harmed," he said, holding a clenched fist in the air. "Or you'd be dead too. Y' hear?"

Kieryn sank into the soft mattress of her bed, face first, legs dangling over the edge. She could sense her sister's presence lingering over her and she made her best effort not to acknowledge her company in the slightest.

Soon she felt the bed lift the tiniest beneath her and when she turned her head to the left, Emerson was lying in much the same position as herself, watching her with solemn eyes.

"What were you thinking, Kier?"

Kieryn grumbled, turning her face away from Emerson's gaze and burying her nose deep into the bedcovers beneath her. "I don't know," she mumbled finally, the words muffled and barely audible due to the blankets pressed tight to her face.

"Liar," Emerson mumbled, a hint of humour behind the word. She shoved her sister's shoulder lightly and waited as Kieryn's head finally turned back to the side to face her.

"It was just a spare of the moment thing. We walked into that church and I realized, Em. I needed to see it for myself," Kieryn murmured, sitting up on the bed and facing toward the open door.

Emerson too rose from the plush mattress, crossing her legs over one another on the bed and positioning herself to face her sister entirely. "See what?"

"The crime scene."

Emerson stifled a chuckle, still not comprehending the reasoning behind her sister's actions earlier that day. "Why couldn't you just tell one of us that? Instead of disappearing with Dean's car and leaving the rest of us in the loop."

Kieryn shook her head furiously, refusing to look up from her locked stare upon the cream carpet to meet Emerson's inquiring gaze. "Because you all think that I did it."

"Kieryn, we don't think that."

"Liar." Kieryn spoke the word with an air of hostility, her fists clenching involuntarily. She couldn't fight the sudden rage that had overcome her. "You think I killed that man! And the others. But I _didn't_, Em!" Kieryn looked up at her sister frantically, pleading for her to believe her. She could feel her eyes glazing over with liquid but she willed the forming tears to cease with a shake of her head. "I didn't do it."

"I know, Kieryn." Emerson said softly, cautious not to anger the already frustrated redhead. "That's what Sam and Dean are here for. They're going to help us find out what made you do these things. It's going to be-"

"_No_!" Kieryn yelled, slamming her fist down with full force upon the mattress, the sudden action causing Emerson to jolt in shock. Kieryn's breathing grew jagged, heavy, despite her efforts to calm her impending infuriation. "I didn't do it, Em," she whispered softly, as her heavy breathes finally subsided. "There's got to be another explanation. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's all."

"Wrong place, wrong time," Emerson reiterated, nodding. More than anything, she wanted to believe that Kieryn's words were the truth. That Kieryn was the victim here, that she _hadn't _committed any of these crimes. But to believe that, Emerson knew she needed proof. Sam and Dean were the best hope in finding proof that they had, and Kieryn's stupid stunt may well have cost them their trust. Dean sure as hell was pissed. With good reason. She wouldn't have been surprised if the brothers packed up and left town altogether.

"I just want this to be over," Kieryn murmured, glancing up at her sister with a grimness engraved into her expression.

It wasn't often that Kieryn displayed her emotions so readily. She'd always argued that exposing one's true sentiments proved as the ultimate weakness, a sign of vulnerability. But Emerson could see clear as day the hint of fear beneath her sister's deep blue eyes and this only made her own worries grow even greater. "Me too," she whispered at last, smiling weakly, though she knew the gesture was useless.


	16. Denial

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Emerson descended the grand staircase and began making her way through the hallway of her home. As she grew closer to the kitchen she could make out the two men's muffled voices resonating through the walls and upon stepping through the archway and into the house's kitchen, the men turned to face her instantly.

"So?" Dean asked expectantly, watching Emerson with an anxious look in his eye. At least he wasn't furious anymore, from the looks.

Emerson shook her head faintly, passing the two men as she crossed the room to reach the kitchen fridge. "She says she's sorry." Okay, so Kieryn hadn't spoken quite those words. Actually, she hadn't mentioned an apology at all. But Emerson didn't want her sister's obstinacy to anger Dean even further.

"Sorry?" Dean scoffed, watching the blonde girl as she examined the contents of the stainless steel fridge before moving on to inspect the pantry.

Emerson turned back to face Dean abruptly, strands of blonde hair flicking past her eyes at the rapid motion. Tucking the tresses behind her ears and staring at Dean unyieldingly, she continued in a desperate defence. "Look, Dean. You've got to understand this is hard for her." Emerson pursed her lips, glancing down at the marble countertop and refusing to look back up. "She's afraid that we think _she's _responsible for this."

"But she is," Dean countered in an almost 'duh' tone, "she stole my car and drove off with it. Guilty; left, right and centre."

Emerson was shaking her head, laughing lightly. "No, I'm not talking about your car, Dean."

"She's talking about the murders." Sam spoke up for the first time since her entrance and he now shot Emerson a sincere glance, a comprehensive smile adorning his features. "Kieryn thinks that we think she's guilty of the murders."

"But she is," Dean repeated simply, not fully grasping the topic of conversation at that moment. Was it state-the-obvious Day or something? "She didn't do it willingly, but she still killed those people. Plain and simple."

"Kieryn is utterly convinced that she _didn't_ do it. Physically or mentally. She thinks she's been framed." With these words Emerson gave up on her search for food and pulled herself up onto the marble bench top, legs dangling, facing the boys.

Dean smirked. "Well, that's denial for you. Let's you think you're different, and then you find out that you're really just a scumbag like the rest of us."

"A little melodramatic there, don't you think?"

"Shut up, Sammy."

Sam chuckled lightly, setting himself atop of one of the bar stools beside the bench. "So what now?" He asked, both to Emerson and his brother.

"Well, what did you find out at the church today?" Dean inquired, leaning his elbows into the marble bench top in order to prop himself up.

"The three victims all attended the same church. They were all close friends. Nothing unusual happened during the time before their deaths." With this he scratched the back of his head, frowning faintly. "I couldn't find a speck of Sulfur anywhere."

Dean nodded slowly, processing the information silently. "Maybe it's not Sulfur we should be looking for."

"That's what I've been thinking," Sam began, watching his brother intently. "You see, the priest mentioned something about a close friend of theirs passing away around three months ago. Markus Trengrove. After his death, all three of the victims joined the church."

Dean smirked. "Guilty conscience, maybe?"

Sam nodded, though his uncertainty was evident in the way he scratched his head, eyebrows scrunched up in pensive consideration. "The only thing is, is I don't see how this could possibly be a spirit. I mean, we've never come across a spirit that can _control_ people during their sleep. And we've pretty much come across _everything_ at some point."

"Oh, Sammy. Such little faith," Dean said jokingly, shooting Emerson a quick glance before turning back to face Sam. "Em found this book about mind possession."

"Mind possession?" Sam repeated, wondering if he'd heard his brother correctly. "They have books on that?"

"Apparently so," Emerson murmured, eyes locked to her jean-clad legs dangling beneath her.

"Could you go grab it?" Dean asked and Emerson nodded immediately. Within a flash she was out the kitchen exit and reappearing merely moments later, the large, leathered hardback within her grasp.

Emerson plonked the tome down upon the wooden dining table and immediately began flicking through the pages in search of the entry she'd discovered earlier that day. "Here," she said as she finally found the page in question, pushing the book toward Sam, who was already standing by her side in wait.

"It is believed by individuals with certain experiences that possession of the mind can occur through a psychic connection between the planes that link the living with the dead," Sam read aloud, examining the messy handwriting as his mind already began to put together the meaning of the words. "And by dead, it means spirits. Right?"

"Keep reading," Emerson mumbled, ignoring his inquiry altogether. As Sam continued to scan through the words upon the page, Emerson noticed his eyes widen in understanding.

"During one's sleep, a person is nearest the realm of the dead, making it a possibility, though rare, for this connection to be made." Sam shook his head lightly, the hint of a smile upon his face as he sent a sideways glance toward the blonde girl adjacent to him. "Some book you've got here," he said, looking back down at the weathered hardback and pulling it into his grasp for a better inspection of it's condition. "It's more like an old journal."

Emerson nodded. "Funny thing is, when I went to check it out the librarian told me they had no records of this book ever being in their collection."

"Really?" Dean asked incredulously, strolling up behind the other two in attempt to catch another look at the suddenly interesting book.

With Emerson's nod came Sam's hum of a reply. "Odd," he mumbled, so quietly it was almost completely inaudible to the other beings within the room. He stole a quick glance behind him toward his brother, sharing an inquisitive expression before pulling his gaze back to the book before him.

"So what do you reckon?" Emerson asked the question that had been bugging her for hours now. The four adults had given in to the tempting concept of dinner and were now seated together at the same diner from that morning.

"It's possible," Sam mused, skimming over the words upon the page for a sixth time. His attention had been totally enthralled in that book the entire half an hour they'd spent at the diner so far, plus the previous half hour back at the girls' place. "But vengeful spirits don't tend to hold on to their victim's hearts. Nor do they tend to get other's to do their dirty work for them."

"If the spirit wasn't planning on acting on it's rage, then it would have a hell of a lot of anger built up. Maybe the spirit is casting it's emotions onto Kieryn without even knowing it, or intending on it," Dean suggested, taking a large slurp from his beer bottle and setting it back down again. "As for the heart thing… I'm trumped."

"It still doesn't add up," Sam murmured thoughtfully, his lips pursed as he glanced up at Emerson and Dean.

"So what's the plan of action from here, team?" Emerson asked jokingly, though the question behind her words was entirely serious.

Dean shrugged with a frown, crossing his arms over one another as he leant back into the leather plush of the booth seat the four were perched at. "I guess we'd better check out the first two crime scenes."

"For what? We already know they were all identical."

"Sulfur," Dean said simply, smirk plastered upon his smug face. "If we're going to rule out the possibility of this being a demon altogether, we'd better make damn sure there's not a speck of Sulfur anywhere at any of the three crime scenes."

Kieryn watched the other three passively, spinning the straw of her milkshake within her index finger and thumb as she listened to their disputes. The things that these men were saying amazed even her, someone who was generally open to any possibilities. But what amazed Kieryn the most was her sister. Emerson was completely casual about everything, nodding her head along with Sam and Dean's argument as though she had _years_ of experience with all of these things, not _days. _The blonde girl was watching the brothers with an intense expression of trust that almost made Kieryn the slightest bit worried. But Kieryn knew the reason her sister was so enthralled by the enigmatic brothers. Emerson was finally getting the answers that she so badly needed, the answers that Kieryn had not once been able to offer her.

"Kier?" Emerson reached across the table to grasp her sister's shoulder, shaking her lightly. Kieryn's eyes widened instantly and she blinked multiple times as her eyes readjusted to her surroundings. Sam was watching her from her side, Emerson from opposite her, both with wide eyes riddled with overwhelming concern. When she looked over at Dean, who was seated soundlessly beside her sister, she was greeted with a glare that sent the hint of a shiver racing down her spine. He was still utterly furious at her for taking his car earlier, judging by the look he was giving her.

"Yeah?" Kieryn mumbled, raising her eyebrows in wait.

The fearful glance Emerson shot in Sam's direction almost skipped Kieryn's knowing altogether. Emerson cleared her throat before facing the redheaded girl once more. "We're going to check out the other crime scenes," she said, her eyes brimmed with sorrow and regret. Emerson didn't like inflicting their troubles onto her baby sister, in knowledge that with every step they grew closer to the truth, Kieryn lost an ounce of her innocence. And that was something she was never going to get back.

Kieryn nodded. "When?" She asked, glancing toward Dean, diagonal to her. He merely shrugged and looked away gruffly, waiting for someone else to answer the question for him.

"Tomorrow night," Sam informed her. "Em and Dean are going to Kellie Trevwavas's. You and I are going to head to where they found Ian Donahue."

Kieryn let out a loud groan of disapproval. "Not that Kellie bitch again."

Em chuckled softly. "That's why we decided it'd be best if you headed to the Donahue's instead. Mightn't be all that safe having you near Kellie Trewavas just yet. For her sake."

Kieryn ignored Emerson's cheeky remark altogether. "So what are we supposed to do when we get there? Just knock on the door and say 'oh, hey. I'm Kieryn O'Riley, and I think I murdered your husband. May we come in?'"

Sam let out a quiet chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "Not quite."

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><p><em>AN: Hi there. Just want to say thanks to the few reviewers from previous chapters. Reading your reviews really do brighten my day! So if you're reading and have a suggestion or suspicion or a comment or concern, please don't be afraid to let me know. Anyway, the next chapter brings in a shocker-twist that will most likely have you all hating me. ;) I can't wait._


	17. Injustice

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter! And to Fred(can't remember what numbers, sorry) for the reviews on older chapters. This chapter has a bit of a twist at the end which may have you all hating me for it. :o But anyway, read on, and I really hope you enjoy. :) Please don't be afraid to leave a review, whether it's feedback, constructive criticism, predictions or whatever!_

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN<strong>

"I don't believe this," Kieryn muttered angrily, trailing behind the tall brunette man as he moved swiftly from the car, parked roadside, to a singular shrub planted at the boundary of the small property.

Sam smirked faintly, creeping up the pathway toward the front porch of the house and ignoring the inward moans resonating from the redheaded girl behind him. As he reached the front door he slid a wire from his pocket, poking it into the key hole and twisting it with great precision and care until all the pins clicked into place and the lock finally broke loose.

Ian Donahue had been found murdered in the living room of his home. Luckily for the two of them, his wife had vacated the property soon afterward. Which was understandable, as the sight Sam and Kieryn came across upon entering the large living room of the home would be enough to drive anyone away.

Traces of the salty stench of blood still lingered in the atmosphere and Kieryn blocked her nose with her index finger and thumb to rid the stink from entering her nostrils. In the dim light of Sam's flashlight, Kieryn could see that the floor had been scrubbed at and scrubbed at, and in the centre of the room, some of the floorboards had been ripped out entirely. The room was completely bare but for the ragged sofa that sat on one side, its cloth covering drenched wholly by a dark red stain. Across the walls were streaks of faint pink against the pale white paint. Kieryn noted how the scene before her looked eerily accurate to the one she'd visited by herself yesterday afternoon.

"What are we here for, again?"

Sam turned to face Kieryn at the sound of her muffled words, spotting the redhead standing idly beside the living rooms entrance archway, watching him with a curious expression. "Looking for anything that could help us determine what happened here." With these words he strolled away from the girl, beginning to inspect the sofa tip to end.

"Right," Kieryn mumbled incoherently, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back into the wooden door frame. "And why do I need to be here? I'm sure you're more than capable of doing this on your own."

"You're dead right with that one." Sam chuckled, spinning back around to face the girl. She was now leant back against the door frame casually, awaiting his response while piercing him within her icy blue gaze. "I was hoping it would help you remember," Sam said truthfully. He'd discussed his theory with Dean earlier; that in certain cases, direct physical contact with a place or object from one's past could trigger a lost memory to resurface. But so far, much to Sam's disappointment, Kieryn hadn't displayed a single sign of rekindling her lost night here.

Kieryn exhaled deeply, running a hand through her hair in attempt to distract the attention from her shaking hands, freshly aquiver with the fear bought along by the sudden new direction the conversation had taken.

"Sorry," Sam muttered, observing the sudden air of unease that had overcome the girl within merely seconds of his words. "I know this must be hard. But anything you can remember about any of the three nights could be extremely helpful."

Kieryn shook her head lightly, her eyes still fixated upon the handsome brunette man watching her worriedly. She barely noted the fact that her uneasiness had caused him to cease his inspection of the couch altogether. "I don't remember anything," she said bluntly, forcing a blank expression onto her face to mask the evident fear in her expression. "I woke up at least three blocks away. Called Em from a pay phone."

"Was there any blood?"

Kieryn shook her head quickly before speaking. "Not really. A little on my shirt, but I had a cut on my arm so we assumed it was from that. I was-I was wearing gloves, too. Chucked them away before she arrived. I-I never told Em about that. I didn't want to-to scare her." These words came out in a choked whisper as she fought back the tears willing to overflow with the memory.

"And the time after that?" Sam asked, watching the girl incredulously as she sucked in another deep breath, her hands quivering noticeably despite her numerous attempts at hiding it.

"The same. Woke up a few blocks from the scene. A little bit of blood but nothing big." Kieryn reminisced the frantic manner in which she'd awoken, enveloped in a blanket of darkness and midnight frost nibbling at her exposed skin. She shivered with the remembrance, unfolding her arms to clap her hands together silently. "Come on," she said simply, pushing herself from her comfortable leaning position against the door frame with great effort. "Let's get to work."

Dean swerved the car over to the curb, pressed down the brake pedal along with the clutch, and shifted the gearstick into neutral. "Ready to do this?" Dean asked, glancing at the blonde girl in the passenger seat of his Impala. Emerson was already unbuckling her seatbelt, clear evidence alone that she was more than equipped for their upcoming task.

"If by _this_, you mean check out the scene, then hell yeah," Emerson said with the hint of a grin playing at her lips.

Dean raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "What else could I be meaning?" He asked, beginning to unclip his own seatbelt with his gaze remaining glued upon the petite blonde beside him.

"You tell me," she murmured, smiling slyly at the man before opening the car door and sliding out of the car. Upon contact, the crisp nightly breeze sent the trace of a shiver down her spine and she immediately curled her arms tight around her torso, hugging as much warmth to her body as possible.

"Come on," Dean whispered, beckoning her across the road with a silent wave of his arm. Emerson obliged, following the man over the tarseal street and onto the footpath outside the house in question. No lights glowed from the small, single story home within the section, indicating that Kellie was most likely sound asleep in bed, much to Dean's relief.

Jason Magnus had been found inside the small tool shed behind the house and therefore, the tool shed was their destination. Dean crept past the house silently, trailing the fence line all the way through until he finally reached the property's back yard. The yard couldn't have been bigger than 20 square metres, cut through the centre by a concrete path that led straight toward a small, corrugated iron structure shoved tightly into the corner. Water droplets glistened visibly in the moonlight from the recently mowed grass beneath him as he etched down the short pathway, glancing around cautiously with each step.

Emerson caught up to Dean just in time for him to hold the sheds door ajar for her. As she entered the interior of the small tool shed she was immediately welcomed with an overpowering odour, a mixture of meths and other various cleaning products. Someone had gone through a hell of a lot of effort to wipe the evidence clean, indicated by the strong stench as well as the pale, faded floorboards beneath them that looked to have been sanded down thoroughly. Despite this, the dark stains were still detectible against the wooden planks, merging into one large pool dead centre of the small room. Tools had been cleared from the shelves and brackets, the shapes of hammers and saws imprinted in contrast to the faded planks surrounding. Over the wallboards were splatters of the dark red liquid, drizzled down the sides of each of the four walls messily.

"Oh God," Emerson mumbled, frowning at the bloodied mess she saw before her. The dull light of Dean's flashlight seemed to illuminate the small interior perfectly, giving visibility to every corner of the room.

"What are we looking for?"

Dean handed Emerson his flashlight before digging through his small duffel bag for another. "Anything," he answered finally, finding the other torch and shining it across the room.

Emerson frowned in annoyance. "You and your brother sure aren't too fond of being specific, are you?"

Dean smirked behind him at the blonde girl standing cautiously by the shed's entrance. "Nope," he said with a grin, turning back to face the room before him. He lingered over toward the shelves on the far wall and began by inspecting the surface thoroughly, in hopes of finding something that could potentially help he or his brother on their hunt.

"You seem to be a little _too_ comfortable with this," Emerson muttered, turning around to examine the dark wooden beams of the walls. "Pretending to be federal agents, breaking into prohibited crime scenes…"

Dean laughed a little too loudly, glancing back behind himself at the girl. She was no longer facing him, but inspecting the walls with great care, her back to him completely. "You get pretty used to it after a while."

"Do you think I'll ever get used to it?"

Dean stiffened, watching the girl intently as she remained with her back turned. "To this?" He asked incredulously, briefly glancing around at the scene before them. "I don't think you'll ever _want_ to get used to this kind of life, Em."

Emerson shook her head abruptly, strands of hair flicking across her pale face with the motion. She spun around to face Dean, leaning back against the wall behind her. "No. Not _this_." Her words came out in a hushed whisper, crisp with the edge of her unshed tears. "Do you think I'll ever get used to the idea that my sister is a murderer?"

Dean was taken aback by the bluntness of her words and paused for a moment of contemplation before answering in as much honesty as he could give. "No. I don't think so. But you won't have to get used to the idea, because we're going to put an end to what's happening to Kieryn for good." Dean swallowed before continuing. "And that's a promise."

Emerson nodded, the faintest smile upon her face. "Thanks, Dean." She was extremely grateful for the lengths Sam and Dean were going to just to help her and her sister. Their willingness to help was a trait that surprised Emerson greatly. The two brothers had never met Kieryn nor Emerson once in their life yet they were willing to risk their lives by breaking the law numerous times merely in order to help the sisters. And they did it all as though it was their _duty,_ merely a mystery they were _expected _to solve. Without a question as to whether or not they _should_. Saying that Emerson was intrigued by the brothers would be an understatement.

"Don't worry about it." Dean smirked, sharing a long glance with the blonde girl. Her eyes were brimmed with an emotion Dean couldn't decipher, despite his greatest efforts.

Suddenly, a sharp crash sounded and before Dean could even register what was happening, the sound of frenzied screaming filled the air.

"Who are you?" She shrieked, a rifle hoisted above her shoulder in a ready position.

Dean froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. As he frantically glanced from the new arrival at the door to the floor aside him he spotted Emerson, sitting upright upon the wooden floorboards, rubbing the side of her head.

Emerson let out a groan of pain and as she looked up to the door, where she had only seconds before been standing, her body froze with shock. She rose quickly, huddling close to Dean's side as the woman before them pointed the rifle from one to the other, rapidly glancing between the two of them in a panicked rush.

"Who are you?" She yelled once more, her teeth chattering noticeably. The quivering of the gun indicated that her hands were shaking violently and that she was obviously frightened.

"Whoa, whoa," Dean murmured, holding his palms up in defence, beginning to etch forward slowly, toward the stranger.

"Get back!" She screeched, warding him off with a flick of the rifle in her hands. The incoming moonlight streaming through the now open door illuminated the stranger's face enough for Dean to come to the realization that she was not in fact a stranger. Kellie Trewavas, the girl he had interviewed days earlier and the girlfriend of Jason Magnus, stood before them fearfully, her rifle pointed directly toward Dean, moving back to Emerson from time to time.

Dean inhaled a deep breath, holding his hands high in the air in reassurance. "Kellie, it's alright. Calm down." He spoke the words softly, assuredly, in hopes of convincing the frenetic girl to lower her weapon.

Kellie shook her head violently, mustering up words that came out with a tinge of rage. "What are you doing here?" She demanded, making sure to maintain the rifle pointed directly at the man, despite the fact that the gun was trembling madly within her grip.

When Dean failed to answer, instead casting a panicked glance in Emerson's direction, Kellie barked another question at him. "Did you kill my Jason?" She screamed, tears beginning to stream down her reddened cheeks.

"Kellie, calm down. It's alright, okay?" Emerson mumbled from beside Dean, stepping out from the security of his shield to allow her presence to be known to Kellie.

"Get _back_!" Kellie screamed, her piercing cry ricocheting off of the walls of the small shed and resonating out into the night. Despite the warning, Emerson did not recede, but took one last step toward the other woman.

Before Emerson could take another step forward, a shrill bang echoed through the room, followed by an ear splitting cry that seemed to shake the entire structure. Dean watched in horror as Emerson fell to the floor, her limp frame curling at the stomach, red liquid already beginning to trail from the gaping wound on her inner shoulder.

"Emerson!" Dean shrieked, his reflexes working in overdrive as he launched toward the stiff figure upon the floor. Emerson's breathing was jagged and her unspoken words hitched in her throat with every splutter of air she mustered.

Kellie was screaming at the horror of what she had done yet Dean ignored her completely, working only to stop the stream of blood pouring from Emerson's wound. "Call 911!" He hissed up at the squealing woman, waiting as she nodded and rushed out of the small shed in one frenzied hurry. "Come on, Em," he whispered, cradling the blonde girl in his left arm as he clutched her wound with the other. Despite the fact that it was merely a shoulder hit, blood was gushing from the bullet wound continuously and Dean was unsure whether an ambulance would even make it in time before she lost too much blood.

Dean watched as the girl's eyes fell to a close and her choking ceased. "No!" He screeched, cupping her pale face in his palms.

Emerson wasn't going to die here. Not at his hands. Dean wasn't going to let her.


	18. Controversy

_A/N: Thank you so so so much for the reviews, those of you who were kind enough to leave some behind! I'd love to hear what you're thinking about this story so far so please don't hesitate in dropping a review of your own. :D_

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><p><strong>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN<strong>

"Found anything?" Kieryn asked impatiently, exhaling a deep breath and leaning her back against the doorframe of the living room once more.

Sam turned his gaze away from the shelf that had been occupying his attention, glancing over at the girl by the door and proceeding to nod faintly. "Maybe," he answered, frowning at the redheaded girl as a smirk developed upon her face.

"And that means?"

"I've got nothing," Sam admitted, sharing a chuckle with the girl. "What about you?"

"Well, I honestly have no clue as to what I'm supposed to be looking for," Kieryn murmured begrudgingly. "So in that case, I guess I haven't found anything of use either."

"Well, this was totally useless then," Sam muttered, disappointment saturating his tone. He had truly been hoping for some sort of discovery that would assist them in their quest to help the sisters, but so far it looked as though their luck had been non existent.

Kieryn giggled faintly, watching the brunette man with a wide smile imprinted on her face. In the dim stream of his flashlight, Sam witnessed the smile upon her face grow and one of equal capacity soon developed upon his own.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Sam mumbled, his gaze not once faltering from the pretty redhead before him. Kieryn nodded obligingly, following as Sam slung his black duffel bag over his shoulder and descended through the short hallway of the home toward the front door.

"Do you think Em and Dean found anything?" Kieryn whispered as the pair trailed down the short concrete path of the property toward Kieryn and Em's car.

Sam shrugged, sliding his frame into the passenger seat and waiting as Kieryn hopped behind the wheel. "Don't know. I'll give him a call." With this, Sam began shuffling through the glove box where he'd left his cell phone last. Finally coming in contact with the small contraption, he flipped his phone open, greeted instantly with at least 20 alerts crammed upon the small screen.

"Crap," Sam muttered, noticing all the missed calls were from his brother. Hurriedly, driven by panicked adrenaline, Sam punched in his brother's number and pushed the phone to his ear, listening impatiently to the monotonous dial tone. "Dean! Hey, what are you guys-"

Kieryn listened intently as Sam's words were halted. She could hear the frenzied rambling of another voice through the receiver yet failed to make out the words being spoken. She hadn't yet started the car's engine and hesitated now in doing so, seeing Sam's eyes widen as he glanced over at her in the driver's seat, panic written deep into his expression.

"Emerson's in hospital," he muttered as he slammed his cell phone closed.

Kieryn almost choked on the breath she had been holding, staring at the brunette man disbelievingly. "_What_?" She screamed, evident fear within her scolding word. "Why?"

Sam immediately felt a pinch of guilt for the information he was about to give her. His eyes widened with the sincerity and sympathy he truly possessed for the girl as he prepared himself for the explanation with a clearing of his throat. "Kier, she's been shot."

Kieryn's heart was pumping overtime, dispersing adrenaline mixed with apprehension spiralling through her veins as she sped through the bustling corridor. She completely ignored the protesting cries of annoyance from the people she shoved past, not even turning back when a woman she had rammed into fell to the floor in a cry of pain.

Sam helped the shocked elderly woman to her feet, muttering a "sorry," before rushing off in hopes of regaining the redhead's trail. But Kieryn had skipped his sight altogether and Sam had to follow the sound of scolding yells in order to pursue her track once more. As Sam came to the cross section of two adjacent hallways he turned an abrupt left onto the other, almost knocking a flustered young nurse off her feet entirely. This time he didn't even stop to apologise, for he spotted Dean's figure charging in his direction from the other end of the long hallway and began racing toward his brother.

"What happened?" He asked as he approached the other man. Dean began walking back in the direction he'd came, leading the way to Emerson's room with Sam dead on his heels.

"Kellie Trewavas," Dean muttered angrily. "The bitch caught us when we were investigating the shed. Held a rifle at us and didn't even know how to use the goddamn thing. Shot Em straight in the shoulder." Dean finished his explanation in perfect timing before entering the room finally, Sam close behind.

Emerson was spread out across a hospital bed, seated upright and chatting casually to the frantic redhead at her bedside. As Sam entered the room she glanced up, smiling faintly at the brunette man before answering another of the panicked questions Kieryn was firing at her.

"Kerry, I promise you. I'm fine," she said, accompanied by the hint of a chuckle. "Luckily, it was just a shoulder tap." Despite her attempt at sounding as lively as possible, Emerson's sentence was whispered through the pain that coursed from her wounded shoulder with every word.

"I'm going to kill that bitch," Kieryn muttered under her breath, the words barely escaping past her lips. Yet Emerson still heard what she had said and laughed aloud.

"Oh Kier, I wouldn't. Look what happened to me when I got within a metre of her." Em grinned the brightest smile she could muster, watching out of the corner of her eye as Sam and Dean discussed something inaudible among themselves by the open door.

"I don't think that's funny," Kieryn mumbled, only making Emerson laugh harder, accompanied by a short yelp of agony. "Shit! Em, see! I told you you're not _fine,_" Kieryn scolded, growling once more as another giggle escaped Emerson's mouth without her consent.

"I think the sedative's starting to kick in," she mumbled, giggling tiresomely before screwing her eyes up in anguish. The pain was definitely subsiding, for it was no where near as severe and unbearable as it had been when she'd arrived at the hospital. They'd pumped her up with plenty of morphine merely moments before Kieryn and Sam had arrived and Emerson was thankful of that.

"Sedative?" Kieryn asked confusedly.

Emerson scoffed, gazing at her sister disbelievingly. "Sedative. You know, that drug that's supposed to knock me out?" Her tone didn't fail to emphasize the obvious sarcasm within her words.

"God, Em, I'm not _stupid_!" Kieryn muttered in annoyance, folding her arms over one another and leaning back into the old armchair parked at Emerson's bedside. "I mean, why are they sedating you in the first place?"

"They've got to get this bullet out of my shoulder somehow," Emerson murmured, letting her lids fall closed. "Surgery's in half an hour," she mumbled, almost incoherently, her words slurred with her evidently exhausted state.

"We shouldn't have got them involved in all of this in the first place." Dean muttered to his brother through gritted teeth, glancing at the two girls within the room. "I knew it was a bad idea from the start."

Sam shook his head slightly, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his eyes with the motion. "Dean, Kieryn's the only lead we've got."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean murmured, his gaze still glued to the two sisters. Emerson's skin seemed to be getting paler and paler with each second he watched her. It was as though he could see the life draining from her with every moment he was around her. So far, he and Sam had done the sisters more bad than good. The faster they got this job over and done with, the better. For his and Sam's sake, and for the girls'.

"I think our best bet now is to wait until this thing strikes again," Dean said finally, pulling his gaze away from the two girls to face his brother beside him.

Sam shook his head, watching Dean disbelievingly. "You want to wait until Kieryn kills someone else?" He asked in a rebuking tone. "Dean, are you _crazy_? We can't just let another innocent person _die_!"

"Exactly, Sam!" Dean was beginning to grow frustrated with his brother's lack of comprehension. "We've got to follow Kieryn when she starts sleepwalking. See where she goes. Then we can stop her from doing anything before it happens."

Sam was nodding, thinking through Dean's words with great care as he automatically began sussing together their plan of action. "One of us has to be watching her at all times," he said pensively, his gaze locked upon the floor as he ruminated.

Dean nodded. "I like your thinking, Sammy. Keep it up." With these words he left Sam's side, strolling toward the end of the room where Emerson's metallic bed was parked.

"How you feeling?" He asked softly, watching as the Emerson's eyes instantly flickered open at the sound of his voice. He could sense Kieryn's piercing gaze penetrating the top of his head as he looked down upon the blonde girl, but ignored her glare altogether. She was mad with him for letting Em get shot. He knew this because he understood the feeling himself; the feeling of protection. Had it been Sam that had been hurt while in the trust and safety of another person then Dean sure as heck would have been mad too.

"About as good as you're supposed to feel when you've just been shot for the first time," Emerson mumbled, glancing up at Dean wearily. "Absolutely ecstatic." She grinned, followed by a cringe which she attempted to hide. But her discomfort didn't evade Dean's sight in the slightest and he frowned regretfully.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his brown leather jacket and watching her sincerely. "We should never have got you two involved in all of this in the first place." With this he glanced up at Kieryn and thought he saw the flicker of an understanding smile flash across her face. But of course, the smile was gone the moment he blinked, making Dean doubt whether it had ever been present in the first place. Kieryn's stare remained cold and hard, fixed upon him unyieldingly.

Emerson shook her head. "No way. Don't apologise. We wanted in."

"Yeah, well Sam and I are gonna handle it on our own from here on out," Dean informed the two girls, his serious expression not faltering in the slightest. He was intent on his decision; that he wasn't going to put either of these girls in unnecessary danger again.

"No way!" Kieryn yelled suddenly, standing from her perch upon the armchair to stand at Dean's eye level. "You're not throwing us out of this _now_!"

Dean smirked. "Actually, we are."

Kieryn was fuming. If it hadn't been for Emerson's bed situated between herself and the cocky man, she was sure she would ripped the smug smile from his face already. Or at least attempted it. But somehow she managed to remain calm,-well, partially, anyway. "Dean, you can't. I need to be a part of this more than anything."

Dean shook his head, staring at the infuriated redhead girl ruthlessly. He could sense Sam's eyes penetrating the back of his neck yet disregarded the feeling altogether.

"Look, if you won't let me help you, then I'm not letting you help me!"

Dean smirked coldly. "Sorry Chuckles, but we don't exactly need your _permission_."

"_Argh_!" Kieryn huffed angrily, glancing down at her sister with widened eyes. "Em? A little help here?"

Emerson had been watching the argument through squinted lids, struggling desperately to maintain focus on the situation before her yet failing drastically. She managed to utter the words, "please stop," before her lids drew to a complete close and she drifted into unconsciousness.


	19. Decisions

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Emerson awoke to much the same scene as she'd fallen asleep to. Kieryn and Dean were standing rigid by the doorway, quarrelling inaudible words that Emerson failed to make out in her haze. As her eyes began to focus to the bright room around her she was able to make out the figure of a familiar brunette man perched upon the ragged armchair at her bedside, watching her intently.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, watching as the blonde girl's eyes opened hesitantly and she began examining her surroundings.

Emerson noted how she seemed to be receiving that question a lot lately. She smiled faintly, her gaze fixed entirely upon the handsome man awaiting her answer. "Tired," she answered groggily, attempting to sit upright. As she did so, she felt a pinch of pain shoot from her left shoulder and cringed, hesitating in her motion.

Sam rushed to the girl's side, helping her to position herself comfortably, her back upright against the metal bed frame with her cushion propped beneath her head. "Thanks," she mumbled as Sam sat back down upon the armchair. "What time is it?"

Sam looked down at the watch upon his left wrist before answering her inquiry. "Just past five A.M."

"Shit," Emerson muttered, glancing up at the bickering pair at the doorway. "Have they been at it like this the whole four hours I was out?"

Sam pursed his lips together thoughtfully. "Pretty much," he answered finally, chuckling softly as Em did so. "Surgery went well," he added. "Apparently the bullet severed a major artery, which caused a lot of blood loss. But they managed to remove the bullet successfully and stitched you up well and proper."

"Did the Docs say when I can leave?"

Sam nodded. "They want to keep you in for the rest of the day and possibly another night to-"

"Fuck it," Emerson cursed loudly, interrupting Sam's explanation. The words were loud enough for Kieryn and Dean to overhear from their few metres away and each of their gazes flickered over to meet Emerson as soon as they heard her voice.

"Em!" Kieryn squealed, rushing to her sister's bedside frantically and reaching out to wrap her arms around her. Emerson groaned the instant before Kieryn's arms could come in contact with her body and Kieryn pulled away quickly, a guilty smile fashioning her face. "Oops. Forgot."

Emerson chuckled at her sister's culpable expression, glancing over at Dean who was watching the sisters' reunion from at least a metre behind Kieryn. "What were you guys fighting about?"

"Oh, you know. The usual," Dean muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes penetrating the back of Kieryn's head.

"Just about how Dean is a downright sexist pig and won't let me help them anymore."

Dean scoffed at her remark and Kieryn quickly spun around to face him, preparing for one hell of a lecture to come pouring from her mouth as she pointed a finger at him in annoyance.

"You just had to go and lay the sexism card out there, didn't you?" Dean said sardonically, before Kieryn could say anything else. "This hasn't got anything to do with _gender_, Kieryn. You don't know a thing about what Sam and I hunt every day of our lives. You couldn't help us if you tried."

"Bullshit!" Kieryn shrieked, slamming a fist down upon the thin mattress of Emerson's hospital bed.

"Guys, please stop," Sam said, sensing the obvious look of discomfort that had overcome the blonde girl. Her pale face was dawning even paler, blue eyes hollow and traumatized, indented with dark circles around the perimeter of them.

"I'll stop when she stops." Dean muttered childishly, poking his tongue out at Kieryn which only infuriated the girl even further.

"You're a liar, you know that?" Kieryn spoke through gritted teeth, doing her uttermost to restrain from full out screaming at the man. "I'm the only shot you've got at finding this thing that's _supposedly_ controlling me, and you know it!"

"Oh, please," Dean murmured. "I'm beginning to doubt you're being controlled at all. You know, maybe you're just an evil, heartless person, murdering people for kicks? Then playing all innocent, claiming you were _sleepwalking_, that you can't _remember_ anything."

"Dean, stop!" Sam yelled, rapidly standing from the armchair so that he was level with his brother. He was surprised a nurse hadn't come into the room yet to tell them off after all of the yelling and bickering that must have been resonating from the small room.

Dean growled hastily, sending Kieryn a prolonged glare. "Whatever." He muttered finally, tugging his eyes away from all three of the others before storming out of the room altogether.

"Kier, he was just saying that because you made him mad." Emerson reached out to her sister with her arm that wasn't aching, drawing Kieryn into a half embrace, the best she could muster through the agony that the action caused her.

Kieryn shook her head, watching her sister through eyes brimmed with liquid tears. "He's right, Em. I'm an evil person."

"Kieryn, don't take his words seriously." Sam spoke softly and sincerely. "Sometimes Dean says things that he doesn't mean, or even believe for himself."

"Exactly, Kier," Emerson said, patting her sister's shoulder.

Sam was already making his way toward the room's exit. "I'll go find Dean," he informed the girls before rounding the corner to the right and beginning his decent through the pale hallway. The hospital was silent at that time, but for the occasional bustling of a nurse rummaging through files at the reception desk of the E.R. or the humming of the water cooler in the waiting room.

Sam decided then that this was what he despised most about hospitals. The overwhelming silence, not the literal, but the underlying quiet that demonstrated the lifeless and lethargic state of not only the building's occupants, but the building itself. Being inside only reminded him of painful memories shared within the confinement of hospital walls, that of his father's demise and his brother's numerous near death experiences.

Sam approached the reception desk silently, smiling politely at the tiresome looking woman behind the counter as she shot him a '_what-do-you-want?_' kind of expression. "Uh, did you see a man walk past here a few minutes ago, about this height, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, by any chance?"

The plump, middle-aged receptionist shot him an incredulous expression, accompanied by a grunt. "Do I look like a goddamn video camera to you?"

"Well, thanks for the help." Sam mumbled sarcastically, smiling sweetly none the less as he walked away from the desk. _The nightshift staff here must be dreadfully underpaid_; he thought humorously,digging his cell phone from his jeans pocket and dialling Dean's number instinctively.

"What?" Dean's gruff voice answered after the fourth ring and Sam let out a sigh of relief, dropping a clenched fist to his side.

"Dean! Hey, where'd you go?" He asked, sitting down upon one of the cushioned seats in the large waiting room. The woman at the reception desk shot him a glare, pressing her index finger to her lips in an indication for him to quieten down.

"I'm in my car."

"Where?"

Sam heard his brother scoff on the other line. "In the freaking car park, you idiot." With these words the line went blank and Sam huffed out a sigh of annoyance, slamming his phone to a close and shoving it back into his pocket. He then began trailing down on of the hallways, following the illuminated exit sign he could just visualise at the end of the hallway.

Dean switched his car stereo off hastily, followed by a grunt of annoyance. Not even his music seemed to yield the capability of calming him down. God, he was furious. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt as enraged as he did at that moment. Despite the inflamed fight he'd had with the redheaded girl moments before, it wasn't the thought of her that was causing him to steam at the ears. Dean was angry at _himself_. Because he knew that his dad never would have been as _stupid_ as to let those innocent girls get involved in their lives and their job. He knew that wherever his father was now, he would be frowning upon Dean.

An abrupt _bang_ beside him pierced his cursive thoughts and Dean looked to his right to see his brother newly seated in the passenger seat beside him.

"You alright?" Sam asked hesitantly, watching Dean with an expectant expression.

Dean snickered mockingly, folding his arms over his chest and leaning further back into the driver's seat. "I'm super." He muttered, accompanying his words with a satirical smile in Sam's direction.

"Look, Dean. You can't let Kieryn get to you. She just wants to help-"

"Don't '_look, Dean_' me, Sammy." Dean spoke gruffly, leaning forward in his seat and reaching out to curl his palms around the car's steering wheel tightly. He was clenching so hard that the veins of his hands were visible in large bulges beneath the tanned skin. "Kieryn's an amateur. She doesn't know the half of what we do, yet she thinks she can _help_ us? She couldn't help us if she tried, Sam. All she's bought us so far is a heck of a lot of unnecessary drama."

Sam was shaking his head before Dean had even finished his sentence. "No. You're wrong. She's the only shot we've got, okay?"

"Alright then, Mr. Smartass. What do you suppose we do next? I've got to get out of this freaking hospital as soon as possible."

"I've got a plan." Sam said, noting the way Dean perked up in his seat instantly.

"A plan?" Dean asked quizzically, eager to hear what his brother had in mind.

Sam nodded, a cunning grin stretched upon his face. "And you're probably not going to like it," he added gently, cautiously, struggling to hide his smile as Dean groaned audibly, slamming his head back into the headrest of his seat.

"Just say it." Dean grunted, bracing himself for what was to come.

"Alright then." Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You and Kieryn are going to go back to her place. Missouri will be there in a few hours."

Dean almost choked at the name, wondering if he'd heard his brother correctly. "_Missouri_?" He asked disbelievingly. "You mean like, Lawrence, scary-ass, psychic Missouri Mosely, Missouri?"

"You got it." Sam said with a lopsided grin. Missouri Mosely was an old psychic friend of their father's, who practised back in their old hometown of Lawrence, Kansas. She'd helped them out with a job once, about a year prior, yet the boys hadn't heard much from her since.

"Why? Missouri's a _palm reader_, if I remember correctly. How could she help?"

"Well, actually, the last I've heard, she's started branching off into other areas of the trade. I was hoping she could put Kieryn under hypnosis or something," Sam told his brother. "See if she can get Kieryn to remember anything about the nights she went walk about."

"Or even better; see if she can speak to the goddamn thing that's controlling Kieryn."

Sam shrugged, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Or that," he said finally in agreement.

"So while I'm doing all of this, where are you?"

"I'll stay here with Em." As Sam said this, Dean groaned in frustration. As soon as the words had left his brother's mouth Dean knew that they were not a suggestion, but a final decision. It seemed as though he would be forced to endure more torture of being stuck with the annoying redhead while his brother got to hang out with the hot blonde.

Sam chuckled at the sound of his brother's moan, grinning brightly.

"Why's it always me that has to baby sit the redhead?"

Sam shrugged. "You said it yourself. You've got to get out of this building. Here's your chance." Dean let out another groan as he came to the realization that his brother was right. He had practically signed himself up for this job without even knowing so. Life was _so_ not fair.

"There's no point in arguing, is there?" Dean asked, frowning as he knew he was utterly defeated with this one.

Sam smirked deviously, shaking his head. "Nope."


	20. Tension

_Thanks very much to SPN Mum for commenting on the last chapter, means a lot! :D Keep the reviews coming! Hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY<strong>

"Hey."

Emerson glanced up at the door just in time to see the tall brunette man re-entering her room, followed closely by an infuriated looking Dean. With this her gaze fell to the armchair at her bedside, upon it her sister was sound asleep, curled into a tight ball with her thighs pulled up to her chest and her chin resting between her knees. "Hey," Emerson greeted finally, smiling faintly up at the brothers as they approached her bedside.

"So," Sam began, "we were thinking it would be a good idea for Dean to take Kieryn home." Sam ignored Dean's grumble of disapproval from his side, focusing solely on the girl before him. "A friend of ours is coming up from Kansas. I've got a feeling she'll be able to help Kieryn remember what exactly happened on the nights she disappeared."

Emerson nodded in understanding. "And if she can't help her?"

Dean grunted. "An optimist, I see," he said, the sarcasm evident in his tone, his words remaining soft and humorous despite his angered state.

"No," Emerson protested, smiling slyly at the shorter man. "I just like to think of all possible scenarios."

"Fair enough," Sam mumbled, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his dark denim jeans. "If she can't help Kieryn out, then we'll just have to wait until it happens to her again." With his words, Sam noticed the look of confusion cross Emerson's features, her brows scrunched up at the centre, eyes squinted the slightest. "Until she sleepwalks again," he clarified.

"Oh," Emerson mumbled, accompanied with a curt nod of comprehension.

The sound of muffled voices caused Kieryn's eyes to flutter open. Immediately she was welcomed with nothing but a blurry haze, to which she swiped a clenched fist over her eyes, proceeding to blink numerous times as things finally began to come into focus. "What's going on?" She asked, her voice hoarse with her obvious sleep deprivation. Aside from the quick half an hour rest she'd just managed to snag, she hadn't slept since the night before and the side effects of such lack of sleep were finally beginning to take a toll on the young woman.

Dean shifted his weight onto his left leg as he leant back into the doorframe of the rooms exit. "I'm taking you home," he said sternly, his tone still thick with dissatisfaction mixed with hostility. The look upon Kieryn's face almost matched Dean's previous expression completely. She looked over to Sam disbelievingly, then to her sister, yet they each offered her the same look in return; _assurance_.

"Why can't I just stay here?" She asked, folding her arms over one another and glancing at Dean with her brows shrivelled at the centre, her nose crinkled in annoyance.

"You need to sleep, Kier," Emerson said, watching her sister wearily. "Go home. Catch up on some rest." With this, Emerson smiled humorously before adding, "don't make us drag you home."

"Fine." Kieryn sighed gruffly, rising from her perch upon the armchair and making her way toward the exit. At the door, she spun back around to face her sister. "I'll come back and see you later, okay?" Once said, Kieryn turned away, strolling past Dean at the doorframe with her gaze locked to the floor as she departed the room entirely.

"I'll call you when Missouri shows up," Dean said to his brother before sending a quick salute toward the blonde girl lying in the hospital bed and turning around to follow after Kieryn. The girl was already at least 100 metres ahead of him, storming down the pale corridor at an incredulous walking speed that made even Dean hurry to match her pace. He didn't bother attempting to catch up with her though, merely continued to trail a safe distance behind her. Reaching her would only bring on obligated conversing that neither of them desired at that moment.

"Took you long enough," Kieryn called with a smirk as Dean exited the double doors of the hospital finally. Kieryn was stooped against the trunk of his sleek Impala, arms folded over her chest, left ankle crossing her right.

Dean scoffed, scooping his car keys from the pocket of his jacket and shoving them into the driver's door upon reaching the car. "I can't help it if the nurses didn't want me to leave." He grinned at Kieryn with an overwhelming expression of pride that almost made her gag visibly. Instead she grunted, unconvinced, pulling the passenger door open and sliding her petite frame into the car interior.

"I need coffee," Kieryn said as Dean pulled the car out of it's parking space and glided out of the E.R. car park altogether, merging with ease into the 8am traffic flow.

"Me too," Dean mumbled after at least a minutes silence, eyes fixed ahead as he swiftly flicked on the right indicator and abruptly pulled his car over to the curb. "Come on," he said, unclipping his seatbelt hurriedly and slipping out of the car and into the chilled morning breeze. He'd parked perfectly adjacent a coffee shop aside the footpath, where the sign hanging upon the door was just being flipped over to read _open_ in capitalized, bold lettering.

Kieryn followed alongside Dean as he pushed the glass door open and stepped inside the coffee shop. Immediately upon entrance, Kieryn was walloped with the mixed fragrance of coffee beans and vanilla, the scent wafting through the aroma and accompanied by the classic sounds of the coffee grinding machine and the early morning chatter among the few other occupants within the small shop. Dean was already making his way toward the counter, merging into the short queue, by the time Kieryn broke away from the trance that the warm atmosphere had placed her under. Scanning the large board above the counter that served as a menu, she walked over to stand beside Dean silently.

"Hmmm," she hummed, examining the list of possibilities the board presented her with. She then turned to face Dean directly, gazing up at his face with a pleasant smile upon her features. "Order me a tall mochaccino, yeah?"Dean scoffed, glancing down at the redhead incredulously. As she nodded curtly, turning away in ready to walk off, Dean grabbed at her left arm from behind, abruptly spinning her back around to face him. "Don't go thinking that _I'm_ paying for you," he said, smirk plastered to his handsome face as he spoke, indenting further into his expression with each word. He held out his palm expectantly yet Kieryn merely laughed aloud, shaking out of his grip and turning back around to stroll toward an empty table adjacent the large glass window that looked out onto the bustling street. It was only around quarter past eight by that time yet the street was scattered with people everywhere, most likely making their way to their work or school.

The young, female cashier shot Dean a devilish grin as he announced his order, a smile which he returned equally, complemented with the raising of his eyebrows. It awed him how she managed to fix up the two drinks he'd ordered while maintaining a seductive eye contact with him the entire time, yet he didn't bother to question it.

Kieryn felt an odd flush of heat rise to her face as she observed the blatant flirting between Dean and the blonde cashier from across the room. For reasons unbeknown to her, the thought of him flirting with another woman aggravated Kieryn in the sense that she was about ready to storm over and rip the girl's long hair right from her head. Kieryn struggled to push these urges aside as Dean began making his way over to her with two large Styrofoam cups in hand, a notion made all the more difficult as she noticed the cashier examining Dean's backside as he strolled away from her.

"You didn't spit in it, did you?" Kieryn asked humorously as he set one cup out before her onto the plastic tabletop, followed by his own as he took a seat opposite her.

"As tempting as the notion seemed at the time…" Dean mused, shaking his head finally. "I didn't."

"Good," Kieryn mumbled. "I'm not so much a fan of saliva in my mocha."

Dean nodded, though he wasn't really concentrating on the humour behind her words. He instead was thinking ahead, to what Missouri's visit would bring them. Would she be able to help them track down Kieryn's controller? Stop what was happening? He hoped so, for despite the great disliking he shared toward the girl, he knew that she deserved to be rid of this _curse_ that overcame her in her sleep more than anything.

"Just for the record, I like you better when you talk."

Kieryn's joking words broke Dean from his cursive thoughts and he glanced over at her, wide-eyed with the realization that he'd practically zoned out of space right before her. He shook his head abruptly, smirking deviously. "Yeah?" He asked with a chuckle. "Well I like you better when you _don't_."

"Are you going to be doing that _all_ day?" Emerson asked impatiently, watching as Sam glanced up from the book he'd been studying to lock eye contact with her at last.

He shrugged, chuckling lightly. "Maybe…" He admitted sheepishly as Emerson's expression fashioned one of obvious boredom. "Sorry. Force of habit." With this he set down the large journal, the one Emerson had found about mind possession a few days before, onto the small table aside Emerson's bed before leaning back into the armchair, folding his arms over his chest.

"You don't have to stay, you know."

Sam shook his head with her words, watching the girl with a smile of ultimate sincerity etched into his features. "I don't mind," he said. And it was the utter truth; he didn't mind at all. The contrast between his brother's rough, pigheaded persona and Emerson's gentility and calm was a refreshing one, one of which Sam wouldn't mind getting used to. At least being here, in the hospital with this girl, gave him a chance to mull over the things he'd seen and done throughout the past year or so. Sam hadn't had much of an opportunity for that, as constantly being on the road with Dean demanded his complete focus at all times.

"So this friend of yours," Emerson began, breaking Sam's thoughts. "What makes you think they can help Kieryn?"

Sam pursed his lips in thought. "Missouri's a physic. A damn good one, too. I was hoping she could see if she can sense any certain energies about the house that could point us in the right direction. Maybe even put Kieryn under hypnosis or something; get her to remember step by step what happened during the nights she went walkabout."

Emerson chuckled. "Kieryn's not going to like that," she mumbled humorously, trying to visualise her sister's possible reaction to the idea of a stranger messing around with her head. She imagined it would be much the same as the time she'd had to give a urine sample at the doctor's when she was 13. That hadn't gone down so well.

"Don't worry. Missouri's pretty hard-headed. She'll sort Kieryn out." Sam grinned at the memory of the eccentric African-American woman, thinking over the countless times she'd called Dean out. He envisioned that with Kieryn's stubbornness, the two would be bound to clash heads, and was disappointed that he wouldn't be around to see it.

Emerson smiled, murmuring, "whatever you say," under her breath before turning onto her side to face away from the brunette man.

The sound of the doorbell chiming awoke Kieryn from her light sleep, followed by a loud groan. Kieryn turned to roll onto her stomach, but as she did so, she felt the short rush of air sweep past her entire form and before she realized what was happening, her body had hit the floor with a loud thud. This only produced another loud moan to resonate from the redhead as she scurried to pick herself up from the floor of the living room. She must have somehow fallen asleep on the couch, though she couldn't even remember doing so.

Noticing Dean's presence at the doorway of the lounge, snickering humorously to himself as he watched her struggle, Kieryn frowned. "Don't strain yourself," she muttered, scooping herself from the floor to stand aright. "You could answer the door, you know?"

"Oh, I know." Dean smirked with a nod. "But that there was high-class entertainment, alright." With these words spoken, Dean turned away from the door and began making his way down the hall as another ring of the doorbell pierced through his eardrums.

"Dean Winchester!" The large woman at the front door exclaimed as Dean etched the door open.

"Missouri Mosely!" Dean mimicked, spreading his arms wide in an embracing gesture. Before he could lean in to give the woman a friendly hug, Missouri had held her palm out before her, holding him back.

"Don't you touch me, boy," she said with a chuckle, shoving past the man in order to enter the grand home. "You stink of ogre breath. Now, where's this sleep walking girl young Sammy was telling me about?"

As if on cue, Kieryn appeared at the end of the hall, standing idly beside the staircase as she eyed the stranger cautiously. "What's going on?" She asked quickly, looking to Dean for an answer though he merely raised his eyebrows, smirk planted upon his face.

"The name's Missouri," the African-American woman informed her, smiling brightly at Kieryn.

"Like the state?"

Missouri shook her head curtly. "No. Like my Gramma." With this she began waddling her way toward the redhead at the end of the hall, Dean treading close behind. "Come on now. Let's get this over and done with."


	21. Hypnosis

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

"What exactly is going on?" Kieryn asked sceptically, backing into the living room as Dean and the stranger made their way down the hall toward her. Why had Dean just invited this _Missouri_ woman into _her_ home without even telling her?

"Missouri's going to help you," Dean said as the two entered the living room. He led  
>Missouri over to the leather sofa adjacent the one Kieryn was now seated upon, before taking a seat beside Kieryn himself.<p>

"Help me?"

Missouri locked Kieryn in a deep stare, as though wearing her down through merely the assertive look in her eye. "Yep. There's definitely somethin' been messin' round with her head."

Dean laughed loudly, triggering a glare from Kieryn's direction. "Kier, Missouri's a physic. Well, technically, a _palm reader_, but you get the drift."

"Boy, don't spare the details!" Missouri chuckled sardonically, her gaze turning back to the weary redheaded girl before her. "Now, Kieryn, I'm gonna need you to lie down."

Without obliging, Kieryn merely looked at the woman incredulously, as though she were utterly insane. She then looked up at Dean, who had risen from his perch beside her and was standing idly beside the sofa, watching with a smug look upon his face. "_Why_?" She asked finally, turning back to face the stranger.

"Boy, your brother never mentioned she was stubborn as heck." This, Missouri said as she glanced up at Dean, her lips pursed together in a tight line. "Now," she began, turning back to face Kieryn. "Make this easy on yourself, dear. Lie down."

Despite her annoyance, Kieryn let her back fall down onto the plush leather beneath her, spreading her legs over the armrest of the sofa, her head resting upon the other armrest.

Dean barely noticed the hint of a glare that the girl shot over in his direction. Missouri was already proceeding, her hand resting upon Kieryn's forehead as she muttered a few inaudible words under her breath. When Dean looked down at Kieryn's face next, her eyes were closed, her breaths already turning to a steady, tranquil pace.

"Now, Kieryn." Missouri spoke softly, pulling her hand away from Kieryn's pale forehead as she began to speak once more. "I want you to tell me what happened the night of February the-" Her words halted and she glanced over at Dean quickly. "When did it last happen, again?"

"Feb 14." Dean answered in a whisper, chuckling softly.

"Okay, Kieryn. I want you to tell me exactly what happened the night of February the 14th, 2007."

Dean watched as the redheaded girl began to quiver, her jaw setting in place as few words began to flow from her mouth, hoarse with hesitancy. "I was asleep," she murmured, her eyes scrunching up even more. Dean noticed the minimal trembling of her bottom lip as Missouri continued to speak to her.

"What happened after you went to sleep?" Missouri's words were velvet soft in contrast to the jagged breathing that was now spluttering past Kieryn's lips.

Kieryn's head turned to the side to bury into the plush leather of the sofas backrest, away from the view of the other two. Only a second passed before her head abruptly flicked up once more, her widened eyes locked to the ceiling above her as stumbled words escaped past her quivering lips. "I c-can't do th-that," she stumbled, barely a whisper.

Missouri opened her mouth to speak but before anything came out, Kieryn's words were proceeding with the same fear and hesitancy as the ones previous. "Why do you want me to do that?"

Dean shot Missouri a quick glance of confusion yet the woman merely pressed a finger to her lips, glaring at him like he was a naughty child in need of scolding. This made Dean the slightest bit irritated, and he plopped himself down onto the sofa alongside Missouri, his brows knitted together in concentration as he watched Kieryn's continued struggle.

"I don't understand," the girl said, her words now louder and more confident. Her eyes were now screwed closed once more, her fists were clenched tight and glued to the sides of her body.

"Talk to me, Kieryn," Missouri demanded. "What don't you understand?"

"He wants me to hurt this man," Kieryn mumbled, her tone clearly signifying that they should know this already, that Missouri's inquiry was pointless.

"Who does?" Dean blurted out, growing frustrated with the half-answers that Kieryn's subconscious was presenting them with. He needed some clarity. Now, preferably.

"_He_ does!" Kieryn screeched, launching her fists upward then slamming them back down onto the leather sofa beneath her.

"Who is he?"

Kieryn was shaking her head hastily. Her mental state was becoming utterly distressed as shown by her rapid pants of breath, the clenching and unclenching of her fists every few moments, the thumping of her heart against her chest that Dean swore he could hear from his seat at least a metre away from her. "He's not like us. Well, not anymore," she whispered finally, her posture relaxing just an ounce. "He's telling me to kill the man. Give the man what he deserves. No. I tell him no, but I can't speak. I can't stop myself from doing it. I can't-" Her words ceased as a deep breath was sucked in through her parted mouth. She was shaking her head again, yet this time, not as a frantic protest but something more of a denial.

"Who is making you do this, Kieryn?"

Another deep breath. "I don't know."

"I want you to think really hard. Can you remember anything about him?"

Kieryn's body stiffened once more, and Dean noticed her jaw set into place, her teeth gritted together as she spoke. "I can't see him," she muttered, screwing her eyes up even tighter, if that were even possible. "I can hear him. And feel him. Sense him."

"Can you tell me now what happened on the night of February the 14th, 2007?"

Immediately with Missouri's inquiry, Kieryn froze. Her jagged breathing included. There was an extended pause before a loud breath spluttered from Kieryn's mouth, followed by the frenzied trembling of her bottom lip. Dean spied the liquid developing in the inner corners of her closed eyes, the tears clinging onto her dark lashes to form large droplets. "Please don't make me," she mumbled, words stifled by the sobs hitched in her throat. "Please don't. Please don't. Please don't." She repeated the words over and over again, ascending in volume each time until she was almost screaming the words, her clenched fists bashing against the leather beneath her, her entire figure squirming to escape the invisible force threatening her. "I didn't mean to do it. Please don't. Please don't!"

"I think we should stop," Dean muttered urgently, glancing at Missouri as she continued to speak words of reassurance to Kieryn's squirming self, words that Kieryn refused to hear over the sound of her own screaming.

"On the count of three, you're awake." Missouri cupped Kieryn's forehead, brashly slapping away the girl's arm as it flung up in protest, attempting to push Missouri away. Missouri remained her staunch hold, quickly muttering the required countdown. "One. Two. Three."

In an instant the girl's squirming ceased, replaced with such an abrupt tranquillity that it was almost totally implausible. Dean watched in awe as Kieryn's eyelids slowly etched open, widening as she examined her surroundings.

Kieryn sat upright hurriedly, swivelling herself around and pushing her back against the cold leather backrest, glancing at the other two in confusion. Dean and Missouri each shared an equal expression of shock and disbelief upon their faces that it almost made Kieryn the slightest bit uncomfortable. She waited for either of the two to speak, say _anything_ as to what had happened during her time under, whether any useful information had been produced. But neither of the two uttered a single word and this only made Kieryn irritated. Finding her voice, Kieryn began with a witty inquiry of her own.

"What did I miss?"

Sam examined the time on the clock above the door to be 4:12pm. He huffed out a dramatic sigh, dropping his arm back onto his thigh and leaning further back into the backrest of the ragged armchair. Dean and Kieryn had left the hospital at eight, Dean promising that he would call as soon as Missouri arrived. Yet Sam hadn't heard a thing from his brother since their departure.

Emerson stirred in her sleep, huffing a short breath through her nostrils that made Sam instantly aware of her presence beside him once more. She'd been sleeping for the past couple of hours, catching up on the rest she'd missed out on from the previous night, leaving Sam in peace to continue with his research. Not that anything useful had come from it. He'd been studying the book Emerson had found at the library the whole time he'd been there and had only made it to just past halfway through. He was sure he would have finished it by now, had he not had to hesitate with every sentence in order to decipher the messy handwritten script.

"Dean called yet?"

At the sound of the voice, Sam's eyes flicked up to meet the blonde girl's gaze in an instant. She was watching him from her sideways lying position upon the hospital bed, gazing at him intently through widened blue eyes as she awaited his answer. Locks of honey blonde hair splayed messily across her pale face, singular strands clinging to her lashes and barely falling into her mouth. He inhaled a well overdue breath before answering with a shake of his head. "Nope."

"Damn," Emerson murmured. "Maybe he just forgot to call."

Sam nodded in agreement, though a tiny speck of doubt was eating away at the back of his mind. "Yeah, maybe."

"Anyway, you found anything useful from that book yet?"

With this, Sam shook his head regretfully, huffing a sigh of frustration and setting the book down onto the steel table aside Emerson's bed. "The majority of that book is filled with presumed _real_ ghost stories from people who won't have experienced a real spirit in their lives. I think whoever wrote this journal was somewhat of a roadie, travelling around collecting as many stories as they could in order to fill the whole goddamn book." Sam paused to make sure that Emerson was still keeping up with what he was saying. She was still watching him raptly so he decided to continue with his rambling. "Though I'll admit some of the stuff in here is pretty believable. The chapter on mind possession mostly, as it's talking about someone who claimed to have experienced total loss of control over their body at the hands of some unknown force; made to do things against their will. These things didn't exactly include numerous accounts of cold blooded murder like in Kieryn's case, but it's still something."

Sam pretended not to notice Emerson's halt of breath as he mentioned Kieryn's crimes. Pretended that he didn't at all sense her instant unease at the phrase he'd used. Instead he merely bit back his bottom lip, glancing over at the door as another presence within the room was made known with the sound of shoes scuffing across the linoleum floor.

"How are you feeling, Ms O'Riley?" The young nurse asked as she approached Emerson's bed from the opposite side as Sam, her clipboard clutched tight to her chest with her left arm.

"Alright," Emerson said, not bothering with an ounce of her usually preferred sarcastic response, tugging her gaze away from Sam to glance up at the nurse with a wide smile.

The nurse pulled her clipboard out, scrawling something across the paper upon it while Emerson shared a short glance with Sam. "When can I get out of here?"

"I'm afraid that you suffered quite a sufficient amount of blood loss this morning. The doctor believes it is in your best interest to spend the night here, just to be certain you will receive a full recovery. But hopefully by tomorrow, you will be able to check out."

"You've got to be kidding," Emerson muttered, slamming her head backward into the hard steel headboard of the bed.

"Keep whacking your head like that and you'll be in here even longer," Sam said with a chuckle, as the nurse departed the room leaving he and Emerson alone once more. As the ring of Sam's cell phone sounded, he quickly fished it from his pocket, flipped it open and pressing it to his right ear. "Dean?"

"Sammy. Hey."

"Missouri there?"

"She sure is," Dean said, words drenched with mock enthusiasm.

"And?"

"Well…" Dean began, pausing, which only made Sam even more curious by the second. "There's definitely been something controlling her. Missouri said she could feel it the second she walked into the house. Wasn't exactly sure about what, though, she said the trace of it was too thin for her to recognize. When she put Kieryn under, Kieryn was saying that someone was telling her to kill the man, she could hear him and sense him, but not _see_ him, and that she couldn't stop herself from doing the things he was telling her to do. If that's not a sure fire sign of possession, then I don't know what is."

"It does sound a hell of a lot like demonic possession," Sam murmured. "But it _can't_ be a demon, Dean. Demons don't work like that. They don't just inhabit a body for one night, fleeing as soon as the deed is done only to come back a couple of weeks later." The uncertainty in Sam's words was presented perfectly with his tone, not failing to mask a single ounce of the confusion and utter loss he felt.

"I know," Dean mumbled, knowing full well his brother's words were correct. "But it's the best assumption we've got at this point."

Sam nodded, then realizing his brother would not see the gesture through the phone, and spoke up. "I'm not so sure about that, Dean. The book Em found is definitely something to consider. It's possible that a spirit could be behind this."

"And the Sulfur?" Dean asked sceptically.

Sam shrugged, though the gesture wouldn't reach Dean's knowledge. "We only found it at the one scene, Dean. Coincidence?"

"Coincidences don't happen to _us_, Sam."

Sam let out a loud sigh, knowing from numerous experiences that Dean's statement was utterly true. "Yeah. You're right," he murmured, stare locked to the floor in thought.

"So what's the plan from here?"

"I guess we'll just have to wait until this happens again. Em's stuck here for another night, so it's up to you not to let Kieryn out of your sight tonight. You hear? You've got to be watching her at all times. If she starts sleepwalking, you follow her. And you call me. Clear?"

"Ai ai!" Dean chimed, and as the words flew through the receiver Sam pictured the image of his brother saluting in assurance.

"Dean…" he muttered in scolding.

"Jesus, Sammy! I understand. That girl isn't to go anywhere without me tonight. She's going to hate me so much for this…"

"Good," Sam murmured. "Keep in touch." With this, he slammed his cell phone to a close, slipping the device deep into his jeans pocket while shooting Emerson a small smile of reassurance, preparing to give her an explanation of their conversation.

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><p><em>AN: I am so so sorry for the wait! Computer problems, you know what it's like. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you very very much for the reviews on the previous chapter! Anyway, until next time. :)_


	22. Alliance

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

Dean thrummed his fingers along the bench top. And again. And once more. Yet with each prolonged tap of his fingertips contacting with the smooth marble followed another second of boredom he failed to suppress.

Missouri and Kieryn were in the room over; the study. He could hear their muffled voices resonating through the thin wall that separated them, though couldn't make out the words being spoken. It was as though they were taunting him on purpose, making him suffer in his endless boredom. Punishing him. The thought of that only depressed him even further.

He'd contemplated calling his brother several times, but had never ended up fulfilling the idea. Dean was supposed to be _researching_. That's what Missouri had told him to do, while she and Kieryn had a private chat in the other room. But Dean knew that any research he could possibly be doing within the confines of the girls' kitchen wouldn't help them in the slightest, and he knew Missouri knew this too. She'd just wanted an excuse to kick him out of the room. Dean may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed-as Missouri had pointed out on previous occasions,-but he wasn't _stupid_. The idea that Missouri wanted him to be 'researching' was not only boredom-wrenching, but _offensive_.

Dean heard the words spoken in the other room fall short, followed by a silence. Then the sound of treading footsteps filled his ears, a sound that almost made him jump up in relief and rush toward the door to meet his company. But instead Dean sat in silence upon the barstool beside the kitchen bench, eyes glued to the open archway in wait.

As Missouri's large figure filled the exit arch of the kitchen and dining room, Dean grinned in liberation, a goofy smile that masked his entire face and triggered an expression of utter confusion from Missouri. "Boy, what you grinning about?"

"You," Dean said simply, pushing himself off of the barstool and making his way over to the elder woman. "Get anything useful?" he asked quizzically, peeking his eyes around the gap presented between Missouri and the hallway behind to see if Kieryn was anywhere to be found behind the larger woman.

"She's gone up to her room, if that's what you were going to ask." Missouri had spoken this before Dean had even opened his mouth to ask.

"I hate it when you do that," he murmured incoherently, though he knew deep down that the words wouldn't slip past Missouri's super keen senses.

"Be quiet," the woman shushed him and Dean had to restrain from cussing under his breath. Before anything more could be said on his behalf, Missouri's warm hand was clutching his own. "You sure have issues with that girl, don't you?"

"Stop it," Dean muttered in annoyance, tugging his hand away from the woman.

"Boy, Kieryn's a sweet, innocent young girl. She's just been caught up in all of you and your brother's crap and it's turned her a little sour."

Dean scoffed rudely. "Sweet?" he questioned, his tone purely derisive in supplement to his scrunched up nose and raised eyebrows. The idea of Kieryn being a _sweet_, innocent young girl made Dean almost want to laugh aloud at the absurdity of it. In his experience, the girl was anything but sweet. She was irritating, demanding, thieving, scheming and always got in the way. Those were characteristics he wouldn't place alongside _sweet_.

Missouri slapped Dean's shoulder, gasping slightly. "Shame on you for thinking such cruel thoughts!" she scorned, casting Dean a warning glare that made the hairs on the back of his neck strand upright.

Dean merely grinned guiltily in response, shrugging.

"Boy, you need to give Kieryn a chance. I think you will come to like her eventually."

He couldn't help but believe the woman. Despite his head telling him not to, he truly did feel an ounce of pity and sincerity toward the redheaded girl, a feeling he would never admit to her nor anyone else.

"That's more like it, boy." Missouri smiled earnestly, patting Dean's shoulder. "I'm going to head off now. You say a big hello to your brother for me, won't you?"

Dean nodded, leading Missouri out of the dining room and through the hallway to the front door. He pulled the door ajar and awaited as she waddled outside. "Thanks, Missouri. You've been a big help."

"Now now, it's no trouble boy." Missouri smiled her signature warm smile. "Don't be strangers!" With this, she turned around and slowly descended the porch steps of the home, down the pathway to her small car parked alongside the curb.

Dean had time to call, "we won't!" before the woman hopped inside her car and the car spluttered to life, slowly gliding away from the O'Rileys' home.

"She's nice."

Kieryn's voice pulled Dean's gaze away from the stretch of lawn ahead of him as he quickly spun around to face her. Kieryn was standing about a metre from Dean, dressed in her same attire as previous; the tan coat she seemed to favour clinging to her slim figure, matched with a pair of skinny legged grey jeans beneath. Though it was not her clothes that struck Dean as he examined her. It was the obvious vulnerability merged deep within the relentless stare she presented him with, the fear locked evidently in her pale blue eyes. The exposure of her emotions came as a great shock to Dean, an almost refreshing shock that displayed to him a side of this girl that he hadn't before had the privilege of viewing during his short time of knowing her.

"What?" Kieryn asked, confusion knitted into her scrunched up brow. The way that Dean was watching her, as though he was staring straight into her soul, was beginning to creep her out a little.

"Oh," Dean murmured, glancing to the side whilst bringing his hand to his head in order to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah. Missouri's nice."

Kieryn nodded hesitantly, watching with suspicion as Dean sauntered past her and into the kitchen and dining room area, his gaze upon the floor the entire time. Something was up with the way he was acting yet Kieryn couldn't pinpoint it, despite her best efforts.

"I'm starved," Dean stated, clutching his stomach as he turned back to face the girl that was now mounted within the doorway, watching him intently. "Aren't you?"

His question bought on a rumbling in her stomach that she hadn't even noticed earlier. Hell, she _was_ hungry. She had been too distracted beforehand to notice, but now that Dean had mentioned the possibility of food, the thought wouldn't escape her head. "Let's go get something to eat," she said with a nod. Dean nodded in agreement and began making his way toward the exit. "Hold up," Kieryn murmured. "Let me get changed out of these smelly clothes first."

"Is this the only goddamn diner you ever go to?" Dean asked as he pulled his car into the parking space outside the familiar diner that Kieryn had directed him to. She'd insisted they eat here at _El Romeo's_ again and of course Dean hadn't had a choice in the matter at all.

Kieryn shot him a 'so-what?' kind of smirk, pushing her door open and stepping outside. "Pretty much," she said as Dean slid out of the driver's side, turning away to lead their stroll up the short path toward double doors of the diner.

Dean huffed out a sigh of frustration, trailing after the petite girl. He could only hope like hell that she didn't go introducing him as her boyfriend again. God, the memory of the last time he'd been in this diner alone with the girl still infuriated him deeply.

As they entered the diner, Dean failed to spot the plump waitress named Michelle who had served he and Kieryn the other day, which was a good sign. Kieryn plopped herself down at one of the booth seats and Dean proceeded to seat himself opposite her, grabbing a menu from the tabletop and automatically scanning over it hungrily.

"Did Sam say when Em can check out?" Kieryn asked as she plucked a menu for herself from the table and began inspecting it in much the same manner as Dean. The topic of her sister seemed to have skipped her mind since that morning and only now, as the silence was beginning to kick in, did Kieryn begin to worry about Emerson. She'd been _shot_, for Christ's sake, yet she had been acting as though it was nothing! Kieryn truly failed to understand her sister at times.

"Tomorrow morning, at best."

Kieryn nodded along with Dean's response, dropping her menu onto the tabletop as a waitress approached their table, notepad and pen in hand.

"Can I get you two anything?" The waitress asked. She was a woman, looked to be at least in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties, and judging by the thick lines that crinkled her eyes and hard forehead, she'd dealt with a lot of suppression within her life. But the waitress wasn't here for sympathy, therefore Kieryn didn't ask.

"I'll have the works burger with extra mayo, thanks."

Dean glanced at Kieryn incredulously. "Geez, Kieryn, you eat like a _man_!"

Kieryn merely smirked at Dean and shrugged, leaning back into the plush leather of the booth seat behind her and awaiting while Dean announced his own order. "I'll have the same, thanks. But hold off on the mayonnaise."

"Anything else?" The waitress asked, glancing between both Kieryn and Dean.

"Two beers," Kieryn added quickly, accompanied by a single nod from Dean. The waitress scurried away from their table, leaving the two in peace once more. If _peace_ was the right word. The diner was littered with people at this hour of just past 6pm, filling up almost every booth and table throughout the entire room. Chatter ricocheted off of the walls at every angle, showering them with the constant indecipherable words of the other customers all around them.

"Did you figure out what's happening to me?" Kieryn asked this softly, not wanting to leave option for any of the other beings within the room to listen in on their conversation. Not that it was very likely anyone _would_ be listening in, but Kieryn didn't want to be taking chances.

Dean shook his head. "Not really. We've got a small theory, but we're just going to see how that pans out."

"You mean, you're just going to wait until it happens again, aren't you?" With her words Kieryn shuddered, reminiscing the panicked state she'd woken up in each of the three nights she'd gone walkabout. She had promised herself she wouldn't have to relive those moments ever again, now that Sam and Dean were around to help her. But it looked as though experiencing that terror once more was the inevitable. Except this time, Dean would be there to stop her before anything happened. Sam, too. Everything would be alright.

Dean nodded, guilty smile fashioning his face. "Pretty much," he said, mimicking with the same tone Kieryn had used when speaking the same words earlier on.

"Right," Kieryn murmured inaudibly, glancing up as the waitress from before planted two beer bottles onto the tabletop, smiling faintly at the pair before sauntering off to another table. Kieryn gratefully took a large swig from the bottle, followed by another before she finally set the bottle back down upon the hard tabletop with a clink.

The remainder of the meal was spent mostly in silence, aside from a few uttered words from each every now and then. The pair were both exhausted. Dean hadn't slept since he'd woken from his slumber the morning before last and was only now beginning to feel the full wrath of fatigue. He struggled to even keep his eyes open and his mind alert to his surroundings as he stuffed his burger into his mouth. But in Dean's opinion, there was a good side to their sleep deprivation. At least it meant that Kieryn was too exhausted to talk shit and harass the crap out of him. He was thankful of that too, because he had a headache enough without her help.

After barely remaining awake at the wheel throughout the drive back to Kieryn's home, Dean began contemplating whether Sam would mind if he had a quick nap. Kieryn could look after herself for a while. And so long as she didn't fall _asleep,_ this thing couldn't get to her. Right? Right. The decision was final.

Dean collapsed onto the comfy sofa as soon they made it home, ignoring Kieryn as she stooped over his exhausted figure upon the couch, offering him an actual bed. Dean was too tired to respond, or warn her not to fall asleep, though he should have. He fell into unconsciousness the moment the girl strolled out of the room, sighing to herself in sheer annoyance.

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><p><em>AN: Sorry for the wait! Laptop's been buggered. Fixed now, though. Thanks for reviews on the last chapter! I truly appreciate your feedback and knowing what you're thinking so far. I have a feeling that the next chapter will be one that you'll all either LOVE or HATE. I guess we'll just find out next time, eh... :) Until then, my readers, I hope you have enjoyed!_


	23. Temptation

_A/N: Hey there! I'm super nervous about posting this chapter, and that's why I've kind of been prolonging it. But here it is, at last. I hope you like it... Though I have a feeling there will be mixed opinions about it. Regardless, I'd love for you to leave a review telling me what you think; whether you liked it or hated it or whatever. I'm not tooooo keen on it, but it has to happen. Anyway, go ahead and read. :)_

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE<strong>

The evening chill nipped at the exposed skin of Sam's neck as he sauntered through the parking lot, plastic bag clutched within the grasp of his left hand. Darkness was falling quickly, relentlessly upon him with every step he took toward the large building and soon he was entering through the glass sliding doors, enwrapped instantly in a warmth he never thought a hospital building could possess. It was seventeen strides exactly until he reached the elevator doors, pressing the steel button inward and awaiting as the numbers above the door drew to one.

_Ding._ Sam strolled into the elevator, the doors closing shortly after his entrance. Pressing the sixth button inward, he leant back against the chilled right wall. The room was silent but for the humming of the elevator generator and the steady breathing of another passenger, a passenger whom Sam failed to even acknowledge in the slightest.

Hell, it had been a long day. And it wasn't even 8 o'clock yet.

The elevator doors reopened once more, allowing Sam's immediate exit from the small room. Through the bustling corridor he made his way toward Emerson's room. After her surgery that morning she'd been relocated from the E.R. to the sixth floor, the recovery ward. She'd been alone in the room until an hour ago, when an older man with a broken hipbone had been shifted into her room to share. Sam saw instantly upon entering her room that the man was asleep, below his furry brows were closed lids, his snoring audible the second he began his stroll toward the blonde girl on the right side of the room.

"Do me a favour, yeah?" As Emerson whispered this toward Sam's emerging figure, she nodded her head in the direction of the other patient. "Please close that curtain."

Sam chuckled quietly, settling his plastic bag down upon the floor aside her bedside table and strolling around the bed to sweep the grey curtain across, serving as a wall between them and the other man.

"That old fella is so freaking talkative," Emerson said softly as Sam sat himself down upon the comfy old armchair at her bedside, beginning to rustle through the plastic bag's contents. Emerson sat upright quickly, a little _too_ quickly, flinching. But Sam didn't notice, so she took the opportunity to peek over the side of the bed in hopes of catching a glimpse at the contents of the bag he possessed. "Please tell me you got me some decent food."

Sam grinned, fishing a white, Styrofoam container from the bag. "That depends," he mumbled. "Do you think your doctors will advise you eating this?"

"Oh, fuck you," Emerson grumbled playfully, reaching out to snatch the container from the man's hands in one quick motion. She'd been craving something greasy and disgusting all day, _anything_ just to counter with the sloppy hospital meals the nurses had practically had to shove down her throat. Emerson was already beginning to feel uncomfortably weak after not even being inside the hospital for 24 hours yet. Something about these buildings had always unsettled her. She could sense Sam's unease too, the way he shifted in his seat every few moments, cringed faintly as motionless patients were wheeled past the open doorway to her room every so often.

Emerson took a large bite from the burger, savouring the tender texture of chicken breast with each bite. "Heard anything else from Dean yet?" She asked after swallowing another gulp of her burger and setting it back into the Styrofoam box. She wanted to eat it slowly; make it last longer, for she didn't know how long it'd be until the next lot of decent food she would get to eat.

"He rang a couple of hours ago, saying Missouri had left and he and Kier were going to get something to eat." Sam took a bite from his own burger once he was finished speaking, as Emerson let out a short chuckle.

"Good to hear they're getting along better now."

Sam let out a brief laugh, grinning over at the blonde girl as she furrowed her brows up in confusion. "I wouldn't say that quite yet," he said, shaking his head. "You wouldn't want to jinx it."

"Good point," Emerson said loudly, probably a little louder than necessary. From through the closed grey curtain to the right of her bedside, she heard the rustling of bed sheets before the voice of the thriving elderly man whom she shared a room sounded, his British accent shining thick.

"Emily dear, if that you?"

Emerson refrained from groaning. While Sam had been out the past few hours running _errands_,-so he'd insisted-she'd been stuck listening to the old man's tales until her head had throbbed from the boredom. Not to mention, he _never_ got her name right. "It's Emerson, not Emily. Remember?" she said gently, smiling routinely though the old man wouldn't see it through the closed curtain. If she didn't know any better she'd have thought he was in hospital for Alzheimer's or something, not just a broken hipbone.

"And who's that with you? Is that your mister that you were telling me about?"

Emerson didn't bother acknowledge the obvious look of confusion that formed upon Sam's face as he took in the old man's question. She also disregarded the raising of his brows as he glanced over in her direction, goofy grin planted on his face.

"No, you silly old man," Emerson said this playfully, shaking her head. "I told you I don't have a mister, remember?"

There was a short pause before the old man's heavily accented voice seeped through the curtain once more. "Are you sure about that?"

Emerson chuckled. "Yes Mr. Rogers. I'm sure. Now, just go back to sleep, yeah?"

"Okay Emily dear. Goodnight."

Emerson dropped her face into her palms in frustration as Sam decided to speak up for the first time. "Goodnight, Mr. Rogers," he said politely, followed by a nod and a "goodnight" from Emerson herself.

She suppressed the annoyed groan willing to escape her lips, deciding to shake her head instead. "I've got to get out of here," she mumbled quietly, glancing over at Sam with a frown printed upon her fair face. "It's killing me."

Sam merely nodded, laughing silently as Emerson grasped her burger in her hands once more, shoving the remains into her mouth and swallowing it in one large gulp. Once finished, she plucked the Styrofoam container from her side and tossed it at the brunette man ruthlessly, swiping her hands over one another afterward, grinning wildly.

"Thanks," Sam murmured sarcastically, matching grin fashioning his own face.

"What were you doing while you were out, anyway?" Emerson asked curiously. "Aside from the food, 'course."

Sam tugged a manila folder from his plastic bag, holding up in the air as though it explained it all. "More research material," he said simply, while Emerson groaned.

Dean woke to a flood of moonlight streaming in through the window of the living room, the blaze landing perfectly across his body stretched over the leather sofa. He let out a short groan, rubbing his face in his palms. "Shit," he muttered suddenly, tugging his head from his hands quickly to glance around the remainder of the lounge room. Failing to spot the redheaded girl anywhere within the room, he abruptly pulled himself from the sofa, charging toward the door and down the hallway toward the kitchen and dining room.

When Kieryn was nowhere in sight, he made his way back down the hall, checking through each room he passed along his way to the staircase. Without hesitation he thumped up the stairs, strolling down the short length of hall until he reached the girl's bedroom.

"Oh, _finally_."

Dean heard her voice as he pushed the door open gently, his eyes quickly locating the girl seated upright upon her bed, legs crossed over one another and stretched out in front of her over the duvet. Kieryn was staring him down intently, thick white book held ajar within her slender grasp. Moonlight seeped in through the window to her right, and in the fresh glow of gold and white Dean couldn't help but notice the full extent of her beauty-the pale ivory skin, refined nose and jawline, pale blue eyes drawn to a harsh slit as she eyed him sceptically.

He shook these thoughts away quickly, tugging his gaze away from the girl to glance down at the floor. "How long was I out for?" Dean inquired, leaning himself back against the wooden doorframe, his eyes slowly lingering toward her figure upon the bed.

Kieryn fished her cell phone from the pocket of her jersey, examining the time before answering the question. "About 3 hours," she stated, spying the time on her phone to read 11:23pm. The day had been a long one, an exhausting one at that, though Kieryn didn't yet feel the need for sleep as she'd thought she would by now. She'd barely slept at all in the past 48 hours yet she was feeling a sudden urge for jumping out of bed and taking a quick run down the road. She restrained this unusual urge as Dean let out a small groan.

"Did you get any sleep?"

Kieryn shook her head. "Didn't want to risk _sleepwalking_ again. I'm sure Sam wouldn't be so happy with you if you let me walk off from right under your nose."

Dean stifled a laugh, shaking his head and folding his arms over his chest. "You don't know how right you are there." Sam sure as hell would be pissed at Dean if he'd let Kieryn sleepwalk without being around to follow her trail. In fact, Sam's words exactly consisted of _"you've got to be watching her at all times,"_ which generally meant that having a quick nap on the job was out of the question. Dean had broken the rules already. He was just lucky that Kieryn had enough common sense not to fall asleep herself.

Kieryn let out a snicker in reply, closing the novel she'd been holding and setting it down onto her bedside table. "Be honest with me for a second, yeah?" She glanced up at Dean at the doorway curiously, awaiting his nod of approval.

"Okay," Dean mumbled, curiosity dripping from his tone.

"How likely is it that-" she hesitated, clearing her throat before continuing, "-that you and Sam,-that you'll be able to help me?"

Though she'd been unclear, he knew what she was talking about. Kieryn was doubting their ability in helping her, in ridding her of the curse that caused her to perpetrate the terrible crimes she'd committed. Her distrust would have offended Dean, if he hadn't been used to it. And though Dean wasn't entirely sure if he and his brother would be able to help her or not, he remembered the promise he'd made to Emerson before she had been shot. "I promised your sister that I would do anything I could to stop-"

"No," Kieryn muttered in annoyance, cutting him short. "I'm not asking about my _sister_, here. I don't care about the shitty pact you made with her. I just want to know whether or not I'm fucking wasting my breath thinking that things _are_ going to be okay, that things _are_ going to go back to how they were before we met you."

Dean was slightly angered by her words, his frustration shining through with the words that followed her own. "What, so you'd rather we were gone? You'd rather we'd just left you and your sister alone to sort things out for yourselves?"

"That's not what I said." Kieryn's tone was gruff with sudden annoyance as she pushed herself from the bed to stand upright alongside it, crossing her arms over one another while staring at the man relentlessly. Kieryn didn't know whether it was her lack of sleep or just her bent up frustration breaking through that caused her to lash out. All she knew was that the words were flowing from her mouth, thick with hostility, before she could even cease them. "But you're right," she sneered, "if you hadn't been around, then Emerson wouldn't be in the freaking hospital right now! She wouldn't have been _shot_!"

"Oh, you, you're unbelievable, you know that?" Dean chided, his index finger working through the air as he scolded the girl, who merely glared back at him with an equal expression of animosity written into her features.

"Yeah?" Kieryn jeered, accompanied with a curt shrug. "That's what they all say." With this she stormed toward him in direction of the exit. She struggled to shove past the stern figure mounted within the doorframe, huffing a loud sigh of irritation as the man refused to let up, completely blocking her whole hope of escape. "Move the _fuck_ away!" she shrieked, slamming a clenched fist into Dean's hard chest as he merely stood in total disbelief at the situation, looking down upon the girl with an expression of new found guilt.

She turned away from him quickly, just in time to prevent him seeing the single tear roll down her reddened cheek. Or so she thought. Dean saw the tear the second before her head had wisped around, strands of orangey hair flicking through the air with the sharp motion. He moved toward her quickly, grasping her slender shoulders from behind to gently spin her around to face him.

Dean blamed sleep deprivation for his following actions. He hadn't been thinking straight from the minimal sleep he'd gained, therefore couldn't possibly have thought through his behaviour at the time. Was it the vulnerability within her deep blue eyes? The hidden longing? Did her exposed emotions evoke a need in him, a need to comfort her? He didn't want to believe this to be the answer. His emotions were all screwed up, as well as his head, that the opportunity had seemed to him one that he should grasp. And so he-his sleep deprived, unthinking, tactless, idiotic self-did.

Dean slammed his face down upon hers in that instant, his lips attaching to her own in one hurried passion that shocked Kieryn to the core. It took less than a second for her to respond, kissing him back with an intensity fired by her irritation and fed-up emotions from prior. She allowed for his tongue to dart inside her mouth, exploring the depths of it in circled movements matched by the pace of his fingers twirling ellipses up and down her slender spine. Kieryn was grasping at the hem of his shirt from behind, hands rested just above his butt as her fingers trekked underneath the fabric, trailing up his muscular back to evoke a slight shiver from the man.

Dean pulled away for the shortest second of breath before Kieryn had crashed her mouth upon his once more.

"Don't stop," she murmured against his lips, shaking her head slightly while continuing to kiss the man with a fiery desire.

Dean didn't respond in words, but in actions, slipping his hands up the back of her jersey to tug the article of clothing over her head, reattaching his lips to hers before the sweater even hit the floor. He was pushing her toward the far wall of her bedroom without even knowing so, failing to dodge numerous items of furniture along the way and feeling a few items falling at his feet as he brushed past the desk. He heard a loud crash as something hit the floor but didn't stop the motion for a second. Once her body was leant securely back against the wall he allowed his lips to leave hers to tread over the hollows of her neck, sliding over the tender skin and leaving fresh kisses along the entire trail. His nose etched along the chilled skin of her jaw line as his lips dug deeper into the flesh of her neck, sucking on the fair skin.

Kieryn let out a moan of pleasure, seizing his head in her hands to tug his face back up to meet hers, rejoining their mouths once more. Her fingers drove through the short hair upon his head as his body moved closer into hers, the possibility of their being any potential gaps between the pair becoming entirely unlikely. Unable to resist the temptation a moment longer, Kieryn tugged at the bottom of his shirt in warning before proceeding to lift it over his head, tossing it aside onto the cream carpet of her bedroom floor. Her fingertips lingered over the dips and curves of his toned back as his hands worked to jerk her own t-shirt over her head. Soon followed the unclasping of her bra, the undergarment joining the growing pile of abandoned clothing upon the floor.

"This is so incredibly wrong," Dean whispered against her lips as the pair descended upon Kieryn's bed, rolling over quickly for Dean to straddle her, his hips digging into hers to jab a short moan of satisfaction from the girl.

"I know," she murmured into his ear, her mouth beginning to suck at the trench between his neck and left shoulder as he hovered above her. "But who cares?"

"Not me," Dean replied with a smirk, his hands fiddling with the fly of her jeans. He pushed his face deep into the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her ivory skin as he relieved the tight denim fabric from her hips.

"Stop talking." Kieryn kicked the pants from her legs, grinning wildly before reattaching her lips with Dean's. Her fingers grasped the button of his jeans and began to undo it, impatiently shoving the pants from around his waist, followed quickly by his briefs and soon her own underwear.

The pair fell asleep in unison when all was done, their pants of exhaustion subsiding to a light breath, naked bodies curled together in a sweat upon Kieryn's bed.


	24. Ignorance

_A/N: Thanks very much for the reviews on the previous chapter! Glad to see you're enjoying Kieryn and Dean. I promise there will be more where that came from... in chapters to come. I had a few issues with uploading this so if you spot any formatting or grammatical issues it'd be great if you could point them out! Anyway, hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE<strong>

Sam watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest through barely open lids, listened to the steady breaths almost totally drowned out by the metrical beeping of the monitor at her beside. As Emerson began to stir in her slumber, Sam dropped his eyelids to a full close, hearing the shuffling of bed sheets before the hushed whisper that followed.

"Sam?"

He opened his eyes one at a time, his vision focusing quickly upon the widened blue eyes of the blonde girl who'd spoken. She was sitting up, unlike how she had been previously, her shoulders slumped over from obvious exhaustion.

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

Sam shook his head, rubbing at his eyes with a clenched fist.

"Maybe half an hour. At best."

"Damn. You know, I could ask if the nurse if she could dose you up with some sedative?"

"Hilarious," Sam murmured, smile beginning to develop upon his face.

Emerson grinned proudly, raising her eyebrows in turn. "They always did say I was the funnier sister."

"Don't get too cocky," Sam said with a smirk, chuckling lightly as the girl poked her tongue out at him, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back against the headboard of the steel bed.

"What's the time?" she asked, watching the brunette man curiously as he bought his arm to his face in order to spy the time on the watch upon his left wrist.

"Half past midnight," he told her. He was still amazed at how Em had managed to convince the nurses in allowing him to stay far past visiting hours. She'd fed them some sort of dramatic explanation stating that she needed to keep a close eye on him, for he was her diabetic younger brother battling a case of alcoholism while struggling through a recent traumatic break up. _"A few too many gummy bears washed down with a few too many swigs of vodka. That's what drove his girlfriend away in the end. I tried telling him it was all a bad idea but he just wouldn't listen!"_, so she'd told them. Sam didn't so much like the thought of her description of him, imagining the opinions the nurses must be forming about him and knowing that they probably all thought he was some sort of nut job with an uncontrollable sweet-tooth. But, if this opinion allowed him to stay with her, then he'd just have to make that sacrifice.

Emerson let out a short groan, pressing her palms into her face with her head leant backward over the cool steel frame. "Crap," she murmured faintly, her eyes screwing tightly closed. It had been only 24 hours since she'd been shot and they hadn't yet heard a word from Kellie Trewavas, the girl who'd shot her. Emerson wasn't holding a grudge on the girl or anything,-they'd been the one's breaking into her tool shed in the first place-yet a little communication would be nice. She was hoping they could come to some sort of compromise. She wouldn't press charges for her injury if Kellie let the trespassing charges slide. Seemed like a fair enough negotiation, in her eyes.

"You doing alright?" Sam asked sincerely, eyeing the blonde girl cautiously as she lifted her head from the headboard to stare back at him with her signature piercing blue eyed gaze.

"Yeah," she insisted. "A little worried about Kier, though. Are you sure that if she does end up sleepwalking tonight, Dean's going to be there to follow? I mean, what if he falls asleep? He hasn't exactly had much rest in the past 2 days." With the end of her rambling she sucked in a long needed breath, watching Sam through squinted lids as he summed up his reply.

Sam shook his head curtly, his gaze locked to the wheels of the hospital bed as he replied. "Dean wouldn't be stupid enough to let her out of his sight." He was certain of this fact as much as anything. He knew his brother; knew that though Dean was at times easily distracted, he wouldn't let that trait stop the brothers from following a viable lead on their case. If Dean was anything, anything at all, then he was determined. Sam knew that well enough to leave full faith on his brother. Even if he thought it was unlikely for Kieryn to be going anywhere that night anyway. "But," he continued, "I doubt Kieryn will be going anywhere tonight. This thing tends to wait at least a fortnight before it strikes again. That gives us roughly five days or so before we really have to start worrying." After a short pause, he added to his conclusion, a hushed addition that Emerson could barely make out. "That's if this _thing_ sticks to its pattern."

Emerson ignored the last remark. Shunned the shudder of apprehension that overcame her at the idea of what they could be dealing with. The dawning factor that even Sam and Dean-proclaimed _professionals_ in the expertise of the paranormal-weren't even entirely sure about what it was that was supposedly controlling Kieryn was a frightening one.

Wanting to talk about anything but the issue at hand, Emerson made a feeble attempt at diverting the conversation. "You must have a lot of trust in your brother," she said, her statement merely a thought spoken aloud.

Sam nodded slowly, half-hearted smile adorning his face. "I've enough experience with him to know that trust is probably the best thing I can offer him." On the surface, the words were simple, yet Emerson could sense a depth of sincerity behind them that she chose not to question further.

"I'll tell you one thing," she began, slumping her back down against the plush cushion behind her and staring up at the pale ceiling. "As soon as all this is over, I'm heading straight to Bali." Em was smiling brightly at the concept, a pleasant grin that Sam found impossible not to mirror. "Or maybe I'll go to New Zealand. I've always wanted to go there." She turned her head to the left to glance at the brunette man through the strands of blonde hair that had fallen before her eyes. "You and Dean ever get any holidays?"

Sam shook his head, "not really. Dean always insists we visit the Grand Canyon." Sam chuckled gently, his gaze fixed upon the floor as he strived to recall the last time he and Dean had ever had a break. He couldn't think of one.

"Must suck," Emerson murmured sympathetically, still watching the man intently.

Sam merely shrugged in response, glancing back up at the girl and leaning himself back into the cushioned armchair even further. "It's not so bad," he assured, faint smile creeping onto his face. "I hated this life at first. Left the first chance I got. Then a few years later I'm pulled straight back into it. Now I'm just used to living like this." He smirked weakly, watching as Emerson's mouth twitched at the corners in response.

A groan escaped Sam's lips as a drilling pain pierced him. Leaning forward in the chair, he clutched his face in his palms, digging his fingertips hard into his forehead in attempt to rid the throbbing headache that had overcome him without warning.

Emerson watched in shock as the man so suddenly ducked his head in agony, a short groan pronounced through his gritted teeth. "Sam, what's wrong?" she asked anxiously, her words a panic stricken rambling that sounded petty and weak as they came out.

Sam didn't utter a word in reply. His face was now masked completely by his hands, so much so that Emerson could no longer visualise the pain etched into his expression. When he made not an ounce of movement, concern fired her actions immediately. She shoved the thin duvet off of her body, not pausing for a seconds hesitation as the blanket slid to the floor alongside the steel bed. She swung her legs over the side of the mattress one at a time, a movement made difficult due to the lack of use her legs had had over the past 24 hours. In a second she was crouched on her knees upon the cold, linoleum tiles in front of him, hands clutching his shoulders and shaking him roughly, awaiting any kind of response.

Finally, she witnessed his eyes reopening hesitantly, adjusting to her face so close before him. He blinked rapidly, eyes fixed solely on the face of the girl only centre metres from his. Shaking his head to refocus his thoughts on the matter at hand, Sam stared at the girl with widened eyes, uttering words in a panicked, incoherent slur that took Emerson a moment of hesitation to decipher.

"It's happening."

"What's happening? Sam, what's going-" Her inquiries were cut short as Sam shoved himself from the armchair hastily, almost knocking her over in the process. Emerson rose from the floor abruptly, watching him through eyes that didn't at all fail to pronounce the fear and distress within her.

Sam struggled to discard the ounce of guilt that hit him as he examined the fear printed evidently upon the girl's fair face. It took all his effort not to rush right up to her and apologise for his bluntness, and then to explain everything. But he had time for that later. Now, he had other matters to address. Scooping his cell phone from his jeans pocket, he swiftly dialled his brother's number upon the small keypad while turning away from the girl's intense gaze, hurrying toward the rooms exit.

Dean awoke to a sharp ring resonating from nearby. He dug his face deeper into the pillow, scrunching the sides up over his ears in attempt to cease the ringing from entering his ears. But with each second that passed came another shrill chime until Dean couldn't bare the annoying noise a moment longer.

He propped himself up onto his elbows, glancing around the room in search of his jeans. Hell, the room was a mess. In fact, _mess_ was an understatement. In the dim stretch of moonlight that seeped in through the window adjacent the bed, he could see that much for sure. Clothes scattered the entire carpet, as well as numerous items from Kieryn's desk that must have been shoved off during their hurry. With this Dean quickly remembered what had happened that night, a small smirk creeping onto his face as he did so.

Another jarring ring grasped his attention, immediately setting him into action once more. He flipped the sheet to the side to reveal his naked body, ignoring the chill that hit his exposed skin as he rose from Kieryn's bed, beginning to explore the premises in search of where the ringing could be resounding from. He found one leg of his jeans just poking out from under the bed and instantly grabbed at them, tugging his cell phone from the pocket of them and pressing the device to his ear.

"Hello?"

There was a short huff of breath from the other end before the urgent voice of his brother seeped through the receiver.

"Dean! Dean, where is she? She's with you, right? Is she-"

"Whoa, whoa Sammy," Dean interrupted, raising his eyebrows at the panic in Sam's voice. "Kieryn's fine. She's with me." The confidence possessed in his words evaporated from him the second he spun around to face the bed, noticing instantly the absence of the redheaded girl.

"Oh thank God!" Sam was speaking again before Dean could form the right words on his lips. "Dean, don't let her out of your sight, okay? I just had a vision-"

The phone slipped from his hand as his brother spoke the word, falling to the carpeted floor with a light thud. He could hear his brother's voice continuing to speak muffled words through the receiver yet couldn't make out a single one, for he was already rushing toward the door of Kieryn's bedroom.

Racing through the hallway at maximum speed, he shoved open each door he came across along the way, growing more and more panicked as each room turned up the same result; still no sign of Kieryn. He descended the stairs faster than anyone would ever deem possible, checking the living room at the bottom of the stairs only to find that the girl in question wasn't in there either. Dread was overpowering his actions, driving him down the hallway at an incredulous speed.

The kitchen was the same. He'd hoped more than anything to find her petite frame hunched over at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand. Hoped to see her smile up at him in shock over his abrupt entrance, hint of seduction lacing her devious expression. But he couldn't visualise the redhead anywhere within the room and this only bought an overwhelming weight of terror to fall ruthlessly upon his shoulders the moment he realized the idiotic mistake he'd made.

His feet were powering him back down the hall without him even commanding it. Up the stairs he ran, just as hurried and anxious as before. Though this time he knew exactly what was awaiting him as he plucked his cell phone from the floor of the bedroom and pressed it to his ear.

"Sam, she's gone," he muttered regretfully, clutching his face in his palm in a state of pure anguish. "Kieryn's gone."


	25. Trouble

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

"Kieryn's gone_._"

"Shit!" Sam cursed aloud, banging a fist into the wall alongside him. "Dean! I thought I told you to keep an eye on her!"

"I know!" his brother's voice hissed through the receiver, just as Sam thumped his forehead onto the pale wall of the corridor, his eyes screwed up tight in frustration as he thought through their potential plan of action from there on.

"It's going to be happening soon, Dean. I _saw _it. Another man, lying on the floor, unconscious."

"Did you actually see her do it?" Dean asked, an almost desperate plead.

Sam was silent for a moments consideration before he answered. "No. But Kieryn was there. Holding a knife. Standing above the man. The vision broke off before I saw her do anything else." He paused his frantic explanation, attempting to conjure up a single item from his memory of the vision that could possibly help them to locate Kieryn's whereabouts. "I saw a view out the window. Of the lake. But trees were blocking my view of anything else."

Dean had an immediate assumption of where she could be. He'd picked Kieryn up from the lakefront a few nights earlier and now, in a hurried fraught, this was the first place that came to mind with his brother's description. "Sam, meet me by the lake's edge on Wall Street. Em will know where to go." With this Dean slammed his cell phone to a close, tossing it upon Kieryn's unmade bed before hurrying to gather his clothes from the floor of the bedroom and shoving them all on. When he threw his t-shirt on inside-out by mistake, he didn't stop to fix it. He merely shoved his jacket on overtop, racing down the staircase and into the kitchen. Dean snatched his car keys from the bench and didn't pause for a second before rushing out the front door and toward his Impala.

"What's going on?" Emerson inquired frantically, her words a harsh whisper. She'd followed Sam out into the hospital corridor, listening to the end of his words on the phone before he'd slammed it closed and turned around to face her.

Sam shook his head, knowing he couldn't evade the question any longer. "Kieryn's missing," he said bluntly, strolling back into Emerson's room to snatch his brown jacket from the armchair. "Em, you've got to stay here. Dean and I will take care of this, okay?"

"Like hell I'm staying here!" Emerson argued, trailing the length of the room until there was barely a five centre metre gap separating the pair. She stared up at his towering figure with a staunch, unyielding expression, one that Sam had seen many times upon the girl's face and knew that there was no way he'd be able to deny her of her will.

"Fine," he murmured begrudgingly, trekking toward the room's exit and hearing her soft footsteps tread lightly behind him. "Here," he said as he turned around to face her, handing her his brown jacket. She instantly caught the drift, relieving him of the jacket and slipping it over her slender shoulders, overtop of the hospital gown hugging her frame, not stopping to observe the way the sleeves fell far past her hands for Sam was already charging down the hospital corridor.

Rain bucketed down upon the pairs' heads as they dashed through the hospital's parking lot. The weather had packed in, the pounding racket of raindrops hitting the rooves of cars the only sound to be heard in their rush toward Emerson's vehicle. It seemed almost ironic that on such a stormy, gloomy night, they were rushing to save her sister from harm. Kieryn had always claimed that '_bad shit happens in this kind of weather,_' and at that moment, Emerson would have given anything to see her sister speak those words and then laugh it off as though it were merely a dramatic statement, and not total reality.

"Can you drive?" Emerson asked, as they reached her car finally. In their hurry, she'd been burdened with a jabbing pain from the bullet wound on her inner shoulder, an agonising reminder of the events of the night previous. "It's just, my shoulder, it-"

"Oh, yeah. Of course," Sam nodded, relieving her of the car keys and trailing around to the driver's side.

"Wall Street," Sam said as he twisted the keys in the ignition, the car stirring to life soon after. "Dean said you'd know where to go."

Dean jumped out of the car just in time to spy the girls' old Mustang pulling into the curb adjacent his Impala. Em and Sam leaped out into the fresh night breeze in unison, immediately spotting Dean ten metres away and rushing toward him.

"Where is she?" Sam called to his brother, a frantic voicing that frustrated Dean even further. The fact that Dean didn't have a legitimate answer would be a fair reason as to why the panicked inquiry had bothered him so greatly.

Dean exhaled a loud breath, glancing down the entire length of the darkened road. "Does it look like I know?" he yelled in reply, casting a long glance over the lake.

The moon's rays shimmered across the lake surface, the sparkles casting an eerie yellowish glow across the tree leaves that rustled with the growing breeze. The rain was a soft patter now, showering lightly upon their heads as the three raced across the asphalt pathway lining the rows of houses along the lakefront, searching for any light through the darkness that could lead them to Kieryn's whereabouts.

"There!" Emerson yelled suddenly, a high pitched shriek that echoed through the night air, piercing the overwhelming silence bought along with their panicked actions. Sam turned immediately in the direction she was pointing, his eyes landing upon a white, double story home, an unmistakeable yellowy glow resonating from a window on the top floor.

"Dean, stop!" Sam called, as Dean had already begun making his way through the trimmed row of hedging toward the front door of the house.

Dean turned to cast a frantic glance toward his brother. "What?" he growled, the gruff word hitting the crisp air followed by an echo. Sam was standing still at the curb, watching Dean with an expression of ultimate dread that only sparked his own fear to surface.

"We don't even know what we're about to go up against!"

"I don't _care,_ Sam!" Dean yelled through clenched teeth. "Kieryn _needs_ us!" He didn't like the fact that he was losing his cool altogether, for the idea of it was a dreaded one. The thought of Kieryn committing another murder was drilling through his skull at 90 miles per hour only to leave him with an overwhelming feeling of guilt and regret in its trail. It was _his_ fault she'd got away. With his own stupidity, he'd let the girl slip right through his fingers. And now she was in danger.

Now she needed him more than ever.

"Dean!"

It was too late. Dean was already racing straight to the front door of the old house, finding the door to be fully ajar as though beckoning him into the darkened hall beyond it. He turned hesitantly, watching as Sam jogged up the short pathway to meet him at the doorway, Emerson a mere stroll behind him. Sam shot Dean a curt head nod upon arrival at the front porch, a signal that Dean chose to regard as an offering of understanding. Though Sam couldn't possibly understand the feelings powering through his mind, it was a nice gesture at least.

Dean was the first to enter through the open door, a cautious stroll that matched that of Sam and Em's as they followed one step behind him.

Dean was fearing what could be coming next. He didn't want to believe that Kieryn, the girl he'd so suddenly gained an attraction for, was beyond that hallway. He didn't want to believe that they were there because of _her,_ that _she_ was what they were there to fight, what they were going to save an innocent victim from.

A loud thud sounding from above him caused his gaze to flicker upward, eyeing the pale wooden beams that towered over their heads. The noise only awakened his senses to the task at hand, sending him speeding down the length of the hallway until he finally reached the staircase of the large home.

The house's interior was merely a blur as the three raced through without hesitance, Dean in the lead, Sam following closely behind with Emerson glued to his side.

Up the staircase. 14 steps turned into seven as Dean skipped a stair each time until he arrived at the top, treading carefully so as not to disturb the deafening silence. He couldn't hear a single thing aside from the thrumming of his heart against his chest and the heavy, jagged breathing of he, Sam and Em. Down another hallway. Through a gap of an open door to the left shone a stream of light that hit the darkness of the hallway around them, acting as the ultimate guide.

Not a word was spoken-not a word was needed. Dean was already parked outside the partially open doorway, his silver gun pointed upright within his grasp. Sam mimicked quickly, holding his gun in the air before him and beckoning for Emerson to back away. She obliged, though begrudgingly. Though now was not a time to argue about their doubting her capability. Emerson knew this and therefore etched a step backward, away from Sam as he and Dean sent a silent nod each others way. A mere second later, Sam shoved the wooden door ajar routinely, Dean bursting through followed closely by Sam, guns pointed in ready at the figure standing aright in the centre of the room.

"Kieryn!" Emerson screamed from the doorway, though her cry went unacknowledged, as Sam and Dean's gazes were locked solely upon the figure at the room's centre, facing away from them. At the figure's feet lay the battered, unconscious body of a man, a man whom Sam instantly recognised to be the church priest that he'd met with a few days earlier.

As the figure began to turn around, Dean's grip on his gun handle tightened. When greeted with the familiar face of Kieryn O'Riley, he was shocked to see how _normal_ she seemed. He'd expected to meet the black, depthless eyes of a demon before them. But all that they were met with was a cold smirk that crept up one side of her face. And with this gesture, he knew immediately that it was not _Kieryn_ before them, but someone, something else entirely.

The butchers knife held within her grasp fell to the floor, producing a _clink_ as the stainless steel blade hit the wood beneath her.

"Who are you?" Dean roared, his words bouncing off of each of the four walls of the room. He could feel himself losing his sanity with each prolonged second he stood there, gun pointed toward the girl whom only hours previous, he'd fallen asleep to. Though the being standing before him was _not_ that girl. It had Kieryn's face, Kieryn's body, Kieryn's cunning smile, yet he knew more than anything that it was _not_ the Kieryn he'd come to respect.

She merely grinned in response, the cold, heartless threads of her controller seeping through into visibility with the gesture. She tapped her nose secretively, earning an infuriated grunt from Dean.

Dean fixed his index finger upon the trigger, glaring at her relentlessly.

"Oh, Dean," Kieryn's controller spoke, cackling profoundly. "You wouldn't shoot an innocent young girl." With these words, Dean could have sworn he spied a dribble of deep black gunk slide from out of her left nostril, before she managed to swipe it away with a hand, sniffling. But the attempt was too late, for Sam and Dean had already seen all they needed to draw a final conclusion.

"Ectoplasm," Sam murmured, and Dean nodded in agreement, gaze still fixated upon Kieryn's figure before him.

"Get out of that poor girl's body, you evil son of a bitch!" Dean's words flowed from his mouth in a desperate spiel, shouted at full intensity. His gaze quivered the slightest to the floor, where the man was beginning to stir. At least he wasn't dead.

"Fine," Kieryn's controller said. "It's not like you'll be able to catch me." In the instant after the words had left her mouth, her limp figure collapsed to the floor.

"Kieryn!" Emerson called, scrambling to her sister's frail body spread out across the wooden surface. She began shaking Kieryn's shoulders frantically, unable to prevent the tears that began flowing freely from her eyes.

Sam cast Dean a glance of confusion. What had just gone down here had given them the conclusion that it was indeed a spirit that was controlling Kieryn. But things still didn't make _sense._ Why would a spirit be committing its crimes of evil through an innocent 23 year old woman?

Sam shook his thoughts away in time to hear a stifled cry of relief resonating from the blonde girl crouched at her sisters figure upon the floor. Kieryn was stirring, eyebrows screwing up tight before etching open slowly.

"Kier!" Emerson murmured, shaking Kieryn's shoulders again in attempt to jolt her sister into full awareness.

The darkness retreated slowly from Kieryn's vision. First it was replaced with an overwhelming bright light, to which she screwed her eyelids closed once more. When she etched her lids open again, she was greeted with a blurred face hovering above her. Then came another sense of awareness. She could feel strands of hair,-or something-tickling her face. She was being shaken, too. As though an earthquake was rippling through her body.

"Em, calm down," Kieryn managed to murmur, smile gracing her lips as she spoke the hoarse words.

Dean was standing as far away from her as the bare room would allow by the time Kieryn sat up from the floor, glancing at her surroundings. Sam was there too, standing behind Emerson who was still crouching beside her tentatively. Then, when she twisted around to look behind her, another figure graced her vision. The unmoving body of a man was sprawled across the floor.

She hurriedly flipped her head back to cast a fearful glance at Sam, followed by one to Dean.

"Don't worry," Sam said, as though reading her mind. "He'll live." He'd had time to inspect the priest's state while Emerson had been struggling to wake Kieryn, discovering that the man indeed had a pulse and hadn't seemed to have lost any blood. A head injury looked to have been sustained, perhaps when he'd fallen to the floor. If luck was on their side, the blow might've been enough to trigger amnesia, just enough so that the man wouldn't remember the details of his assailant. But luck would have to be pretty fond of them to grant them with such a favour.

"When he wakes up, he-" Emerson paused for a moment. She was watching the unconscious priest on the floor, as were the other three. "What if he remembers? What if he tells the police that it was _Kieryn_ who attacked him?"

"We'll just have to make up an alibi for the time being," Dean suggested. "It's not like it'd be a first for lying to the police. Besides, who are they gonna believe? Four totally sane adults or a babbling old priest with a head injury?"

"Dean and I will take care of the cops," Sam said, glancing over at Emerson. "Em, you get Kieryn home."

Emerson nodded in agreement, scrambling to her feet. She held out an arm toward her sister, beckoning to help her sister up. "Come on, Kier," she whispered, faint smile lacing her lips as she spoke. "Let's go home."


	26. Contempt

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

"Does the name Markus Trengrove mean anything to you?" Kieryn asked, sliding her frame into the passenger seat of Em's old car. _Markus Trengrove._ She didn't quite know why, but that name had been ringing through her mind since the second she'd awoken only ten minutes earlier.

"Markus Trengrove?" Emerson repeated, the name slipping off of her tongue and echoing through the darkness surrounding her. She hopped into the drivers seat of the car, twisting the keys in the ignition to allow the old vehicle to judder to start. "Come to think of it, it does sound familiar. Why?"

Kieryn tugged her seatbelt across her chest, clicking in the buckle before leaning back into the leather passenger seat. "It's just," she began, scratching her head, eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of concentration and confusion. "That name. It's been ticking around in my mind since the moment I awoke."

"Markus Trengrove," Emerson reiterated, hands grasping the steering wheel tight as she gazed out of the side window at the glistening lake water in thought. In the wake of their hurry to save her sister, she'd entirely forgotten about the aching pain of her shoulder. Now that she thought about it again, the pain was beginning to reform ever so slowly into her awareness. Despite this, she glanced out of the rear window of the car to check the coast to be clear before pulling the vehicle away from the curb in a routine manner. "I think I might have an idea. Pass me my phone," she demanded, flicking a hand in the direction she thought the glove box to be in while making a point to keep her gaze fixated upon the darkened road ahead.

Kieryn nodded, tugging open the glove box in front of her and beginning to sort through its contents, creating a rustling noise that broke the overwhelming silence engulfing them. "Here," she said finally, fishing out Emerson's small cell phone and plonking it in her sister's already outstretched palm.

Keeping her eyes locked upon the road, Emerson flipped the phone open, tapping in the digits she remembered to be Sam's number and proceeding to click the green call button. She pressed the phone to her ear then, listening patiently to the monotonous dial tone.

"Strange," Em murmured, taking her eyes from the road for a mere second to eye her cell phone confusedly. She'd been denied of an answer to the call, greeted with only the typical _leave-a-message-after-the-beep_ spiel. She flipped her cell phone closed, tossing it ruthlessly in the direction of her sister in the passenger seat of the car, renewing her gaze onto the road.

"Sam didn't pick up?" Kieryn asked, smirking at the obviously annoyed expression printed so evidently on the blonde girl's face.

Em grunted, the corner of her lip creeping up into a sceptical smirk. "How did you know I was calling Sam?"

Kieryn chuckled. "You always call Sam."

"No I don't."

"Yeah, you do," Kieryn insisted, and when Emerson opened her mouth for further protest, she cut her off. "Oh Em. Spare yourself, would you? You know that I'll win any argument."

Emerson merely grunted in response, her hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel, eyes fixated upon the clear road ahead.

"You like him, eh?" Kieryn smirked.

Em shrugged, failing to make eye contact with her sister at her side.

"Fine then. Real mature, Em. Real mature."

"Yeah, whatever," Emerson murmured, turning her eyes away from the road to cast her sister a sardonic smile.

"Watch out!" Kieryn screamed, and with this Emerson's gaze jolted forward, just in time to catch sight of the darkened figure standing centre of the road.

"_Shit_!" Emerson cursed loudly, spinning the steering wheel in a frantic hurry, causing the car to swerve dramatically to the right. But the hasty actions came too late, for it was a mere millisecond before the hood of the car hit the figure with a loud thud.

Kieryn turned to cast a hurried glance out the rear window to spy the large curve of the figure lying on road behind them.

The screech of tyres sounded through the night air, coupled with the desperate screams of each sister before the loud crunch of the car gliding effortlessly into the thick trunk of a towering oak. These sounds were all followed with a deafening silence, nothing but the shattered body of the car as evidence of the accident.

Sam watched intently as the elder man began to stir slightly. He stood from his crouch alongside the man, eyes still locked solely upon the figure sprawled out along the floor.

"Oh look at that. Ol' Priest-y's finally waking."

"Shh," was the only ounce of a reply Sam offered his brother.

"You think he'll remember?" Dean asked, despite Sam's hasty attempt at silencing him. He too was watching the old priest, awaiting any sign of reawakening. They'd been waiting ten minutes since the moment the girls had left, and so far, there hadn't been a lot.

Sam shrugged, backing away from the body to lean his spine against the doorframe of the rooms exit. "I guess we'll find out," he replied. He'd known what Dean was talking about instantly. It would be likely that the priest would remember what had happened, therefore pinning a petite young redhead as suspect number one. Even all of their best efforts at convincing the police combined were not likely to conquer over the word of a traumatized old priest.

"I guess they'll dump the last 3 murders on her, too."

"Most likely case," Sam agreed, nodding.

Dean folded his arms across his chest, smirking brightly with his eyes fixed at his feet in thought. "Kind of funny, though, don't you think?"

With these words, Sam cast his brother a puzzled glance, wondering how on earth Dean could be rendering such a sticky situation as _funny_.

"She'll be like me," Dean mused. "Wanted by the law."

Sam chuckled, finally catching onto Dean's train of thought. "Yeah, only she's on three accounts of murder and one attempted. You're only on two accounts." With this he smirked deviously, eyeing his brother from the corner of his eye. "Twice the badass."

"Shut up," Dean muttered defensively. Despite his denial, deep down he thought that the idea of her being somewhat like him was one he liked. Sam still didn't know that Dean had slept with Kieryn and for the time being he decided he'd like to keep it that way. Because of this notion, he decided to drop the admiring-Kieryn conversation altogether. He didn't want Sam growing suspicious of his newly fond attitude toward the redheaded girl now, did he?

"Have you seen my phone?" Sam asked suddenly, pulling Dean away from his thoughts. Dean glanced up at his brother beside him to see that Sam was patting the pockets of his jeans and jacket.

"Maybe you left it at the motel. Or Em's car. Or the hospital," Dean suggested. The matter of Sam's missing cell phone didn't exactly fit under his idea of _important_.

"I need to call Em," Sam muttered, glancing up at Dean, who chuckled in response.

"You need to call Em, huh? What a surprise."

Sam ignored his brother's suggestive remark, shaking his head. "Here, give me yours." With this he held out an outstretched palm expectantly, waiting as Dean dug his hands through his jean pockets in search of his own cell phone.

"Goddamn it," Dean cursed. "Left it in Kieryn's room."

Sam chuckled lightly, sending Dean an almost sceptical smile. "What were you doing in Kieryn's room?"

"Shut up," Dean muttered, for what looked to be the second time that night, and counting. Yet Sam didn't look so phased by Dean's sudden avoidance of the topic, judging by the way he merely shrugged, a smug grin plastered to his face.

A short groan resonating through the small room triggered both of their heads to twist toward the old man lying upon the floor. He was stirring again, his slurred movements followed by another set of grunts, couple together between two or three jagged breaths. Sam quickly crouched down on one knee, grasping the old priest's shoulders and shaking the man ever so slightly, just enough to jolt the man into consciousness completely.

"She's still here!" He whispered frantically, his words hoarse and dry as he squinted multiple times, refixing his widened eyes back on Sam once he was done giving the room a quick once-over. "Agent… Warren?"

"Warner," Sam corrected him, bluntly. "Father, we saw a man fleeing this exact house no more than five minutes ago."

"We've got another team of agents tracking the guy down right now," Dean added.

"No, no." The priest protested, shaking his head whilst lifting his back from the floor to sit up. He grasped the back of his head quickly, cringing in evident agony. "It was a woman. A young woman!"

"I'm sorry sir, but we didn't see a young woman anywhere near here." The lie flowed easily from Dean's mouth, demonstrating years of practice. But routine didn't seem to be the only factor contributing to his facility. Not this time. He was used to lying because he had to. Lying because he _knew_ he was doing it for the sake of an innocent civilian, in some way or another. But this time he was clearly lying to protect the guilty. Only he knew that though Kieryn committed the murders, she did not deserve to be punished. And he didn't _want_ her to be punished for something she had absolutely no control over.

"I'm telling you! She was young, red hair, pale skin. Absolutely _bonkers_-God forgive me-she was. Crazy." The priest was rambling desperately now in attempt to persuade the pair of agents. It looked as though luck was not on their side, after all.

"Come on, Father," Sam said, helping the old priest to his feet. He cast Dean a short look that didn't fail to supply the desperate _we-need-to-talk_ expression. "We've got to get you to a hospital."

Kieryn spiralled into consciousness quickly enough that she woke to a strangely dizzy sensation. As her eyes etched open, taking in the sights around her and resurfacing a memory of her current situation, frenzy immediately took hold.

She was still seated in a passenger seat of Em's car. Still buckled in tight. Only there wasn't much left of the old car now. The hood was curled evidently around the trunk of a large tree, with such an impact that Kieryn would almost be able to reach out and touch the tree herself. If she could _move_, that is. Her entire body was throbbing, to the point where she didn't know what was hurting the most and what wasn't hurting at all. It was just _pain_. Physical pain. And mental pain.

It was then that she remembered her sister.

When she turned to the left, she gasped in horror, feeling a large welling of tears already stinging her eyes. Emerson looked to be unconscious, judging by her scarily unmoving state. Her head was lolled to Kieryn's side, so that Kieryn could see the thick blood staining large patches of her blonde hair and the large gashes fashioning her cheek and forehead. Her face was pale, motionless, glowing a dull grey complexion in the minimal light seeping in through the window to her left.

Kieryn didn't want to believe that she was dead.

Quickly, Kieryn scrambled to unbuckle her seatbelt, grasping the doorhandle of the passenger side and attempting to shove the door open. It took a few tries, as the car's metal exterior had crumbled together so far it was barely a car anymore. When the door finally burst open, her body was flung forward with the shock, landing with a thump upon the cold dirt floor.

It was barely a ten metre trek until she hit the road they'd been travelling along. There were no houses across this entire stretch of road, as Emerson seemed to have decided to take a shortcut through the unpopulated side of Petoskey in order to reach their home.

When she made it to the roadside, she'd expected to see the lump of the man they'd hit still curled in a heap on the tarseal road. But she saw nothing; just a clear stretch of road for at least 300 metres.

"Kieryn O'Riley." The voice was crisp and delicate, though held an air of contempt.

Kieryn spun around immediately, heart drumming hard within her chest as she did so. She was met with the face of a middle-aged man, dressed in a long black trench coat. His features were average, a face you'd see everyday walking among you and never stop to take notice of. Only his face was masked by a sneer, a pure expression of pride which Kieryn could envision to be leaking of an evil hidden agenda.

"I-I-Em-she hit you, didn't she?"

The man smirked at her stutters. "Correct," he whispered, a mocking tone which echoed through the abandoned road around them. "I always knew you were one of my smarter children."

"Wh-what?" Kieryn stammered, assuming she'd misheard the man's statement.

The stranger merely smiled smugly, taking a few long strides toward her so that he now stood only two metres from her. With his sudden closeness, Kieryn could swear she saw his irises flash a bright hue of amber before returning to their deep, hollow brown. She gasped lightly, fumbling a few steps backward. "Who are you?" She asked first, continuing to stammer further backward, her feet working faster over one another as he began to reapproach her, strolling casually as though enjoying her sense of utter panic. "What do you want?" She screamed, her words crisp with fear and distrust. Her heel caught on a bump along the road, sending her tumbling down on her back upon the cold, hard tarseal road, her head smacking the pavement with a harsh thud.

"Relax," she heard the man's voice say, as he began strolling toward her once more, his tall figure towering over her easily. "I just want to talk."


	27. Intuition

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

Dean collapsed onto his creaky motel bed the second he was within reach of it.

He and Sam had just made it back from dropping the old priest off at the hospital. They hadn't stuck around for a final diagnoses but the doctor had provided them with a brief low-down on his condition; that he was concussed but would be back to preaching in no time. That was ultimately all they'd needed to hear to send them on their way back to their motel.

"Come on," Sam muttered impatiently, his phone pressed firmly to his ear as he awaited an answer of some sort other than the constant monotonous ringing. He shoved the motel door ajar to step inside the room, spying his brother comatose on the nearest bed and snickering lightly to himself.

Emerson's voice chimed through the receiver suddenly, and Sam opened his mouth to reply only to realise a second later that it was merely the recorded voiceover at the end of the ringing. With this knowledge he grunted in annoyance, slamming his cell phone to a close and tossing it onto the unoccupied bed.

"Dean," he called, tugging the black sneaker from his foot and launching it at his brother's sleeping figure on one of the beds. The shoe landed with a thud upon Dean's shoulder and when no movement was offered past the stifled groan and minimal shuffling, Sam chucked his other shoe at his brother, hitting him harsh on the head to cause a choke of breath followed by him immediately sitting upright and glancing around the room angrily.

Sam chuckled softly as Dean's ruthless eyes landed on him.

"What?" Dean grunted, not bothering to hide his obvious annoyance in being woken from his long awaited slumber.

"Em's not picking up," Sam said simply, though Dean failed to find the significance of his statement.

"So?" he muttered. "So your girlfriend is missing your calls. Did you really need to wake me for _that_?"

Sam's teeth gritted together in annoyance, though he suppressed his frustration quickly. "Something's telling me that they're in trouble, Dean. I can feel it."

Dean sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes high into his head. "Not this psychic crap again, Sam. I'm too tired for your little extrasensory vibes right now. Couldn't you just have waited until morning to start with these creepy, dramatic superstitions? Listen, Kier and Em, they're probably at home right now, sound asleep. I wouldn't answer your goddamn calls either if I were her."

Sam opened his mouth to protest but hesitated for a short moment. "But Dean-" he began finally. "What if I'm right? What if they're in trouble right now?"

Dean cast Sam a long glance of reproval before sighing heavily at last, shaking his head. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

"What do you want us to do about this, then?" Dean asked routinely, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to rest his feet upon the carpeted floor.

"We'll go by their house. Just to make sure that they're there. If they are, then I was wrong, and we can come back and get some rest."

"I don't believe this," Dean muttered, shaking his head before pulling himself from the bed-reluctantly-and making his way toward the door of the motel room. "It's bloody five A.M.! And you're making us check up on two girls who are probably sound asleep at home. You know Kieryn's going to kick your ass when we get there and have to wake them both up! She'll kick mine too. See what you're getting me into?"

Sam chuckled lightly, smiling an almost culpable smile before following after his still rambling brother toward the shiny black car in the parking lot.

"I just want to talk."

"Talk?" Kieryn murmured, replaying the innocent word over and over in her head as she stared up at the stranger from her position on the cold tarseal road. _I just want to talk_. That's what he'd said. So why was it that Kieryn was urging to totally refuse the strange man's _harmless_ invitation? She could feel that it was more than just the memory of 'Stranger Danger' warnings from early school years and her uncle and aunty.

"I wouldn't take your time if I were you," the man whispered, lips curling into a dreadful sneer that sent a shiver down the length of Kieryn's spine. "Your sister doesn't have much time to waste."

"Emerson," Kieryn murmured to herself, remembering all too suddenly the images of her sister's limp figure in the drivers seat of the beat up car. When she tried to pry herself from the ground, the man stopped her by uncoiling a hand to push her back down onto the hard tarseal. "What do you want from me?" Kieryn asked, her voice hoarse with fear. Sobs tickled at her throat, begging to be released, and she barely managed to compose herself in time. The only given evidence of her fearful state was the single tear that rolled down her crimson cheek.

"To talk," the man said matter-of-factly. "You're different from my other children, did you know that?"

"What?"

"I like you, Kieryn. I hope you're one of my survivors. I really do."

"What are you-"

He cut her of with a hiss of reproval, pressing his finger to his lips as he sneered down at her. "Quiet, child," he chided, in the manner a parent would use to scold their children. The thought of this bought an extra weight of fear and confusion to rest upon Kieryn's shoulders. "You're different from others around you. You do know this, do you not?"

Kieryn nodded hesitantly, though she wasn't entirely sure what the man was trying to imply. "I kill people," she muttered under her breath.

The man smirked at her remark, evidence alone that she hadn't spoken as quietly as she'd intended. "One of the few indefinite side effects. You see, your abilities haven't developed as fast as others like you. With time you will be able to control them."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't think it was merely an unfortunate coincidence that a spirit chose _you_ to act through, do you? No," a shake of the head to reinforce the word. "You drew the spirit to you, Kieryn. Think of yourself as a magnet. The spirit was drawn to your very existence without you even knowing."

"I don't understand."

"These murders, they were but a milestone. One step along the path toward your thrown. With the knowledge I am giving you, you will be able to control not only spirits, but others around you."

"How do you know about all of this?" Kieryn asked, her words stifled through a few choked sobs.

The dreadful smirk she was offered in return was enough to knot her innards into a harsh tangle. "Who do you think it was that gave you these abilities in the first place, young Kieryn? I've been keeping a close tab on you."

Kieryn froze with the realization of his words. Was this man, this _stranger,_ trying to imply that _he_ was the reason she had committed these crimes in her sleep? Was he trying to make himself out as some sort of gift-bearer, or saviour, or hero? Because he'd supposedly given her an ability that caused her to murder innocent people in her sleep? It didn't seem so much like a gift to her. Nor an _ability._

"I don't believe you," she answered finally, her tone staunch and unyielding. She plucked herself from the ground quickly, though this time the man didn't attempt to push her back down. Now she stood strongly, the strength of determination powering her fearless actions. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to be prepared. I want you to be aware of what you were made to do. What your purpose here is."

"Let me leave," Kieryn muttered, staring the man down ruthlessly. She didn't need to hear another word about her supposed purpose. Her sister's life was depending on her at that very moment and this knowledge granted Kieryn the valour she needed to stand up to the man.

"Before you go," the man's voice sounded as she turned away to begin her trek back toward the shattered vehicle. She spun around to face him, watching him impatiently. As she awaited his final words, she witnessed that instant flash of yellow spark in his eyes once more. Though this time, that one flash of colour developed further, enveloping his entire iris in a rich amber. "If you breath a word of my visiting you to your friends Sam and Dean Winchester, I _will_ kill your sister."

With a blink of her eyelids the man was gone, vanished into thin air as though his existence at all was entirely false.

Shaking her head to refocus her pounding thoughts, Kieryn raced back through the thin layer of bush before reaching the trashed vehicle. Instantly she swerved toward the drivers side, tugging the door open with great effort. Emerson was still unconscious, her lids firmly closed, head lolled to one side. Kieryn clasped the space below her sister's chin, searching frantically for her pulse and sighing in total relief as she found it, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall beneath her index and forefinger.

She then reached over Emerson's limp figure to feel around on the floor of the passenger seat, remembering having dropped it from her grasp when the vehicle had swerved off of the road. When her fingers finally came in contact with the hard plastic device she snatched it up, flipping the phone open and dialling 911. This effort was made all the more difficult by the ferocious trembling of her fingers, but she made it at last, clicking the green call button and pressing the phone to her ear.

"Ambulance," she said simply, when the voice on the other line asked her the question. When they asked her of the address, all she could answer was, "somewhere along Dallas Road," before hanging up despite the other person's extra questions.

Kieryn dialled a second number into the phone, pressing it to her ear in wait. The continuous dial tone sounded through the small speaker and though her mind was telling her that she was not about to receive an answer, she continued waiting, her teeth gritted together in hope.

When she was granted at last with the electronic voicemail, she released a loud scream of agony, launching the phone through the air only to hear it land with a thud in a bush at least 10 metres away. It was typical that at the time she truly _needed_ him, Dean would not be there to help her. She should have realized from the start that the brothers were trouble. Before she'd ever gotten involved in all of their shit. Before she'd let herself grow strangely attached to the elder sibling.

Kieryn knew that once the ambulance arrived-probably accompanied by multiple police cars,-they would start asking questions. About what they were doing out there at that time of night. Or what had caused her to steer off of the road. Or what her name was, her address, whether she and her sister had insurance. Also, why was it that Emerson had fled the hospital that night?

These questions, she knew she could not answer truthfully. She couldn't just say that they had been out there to stop _her_ from murdering an innocent old priest. She couldn't tell them they'd hit a man with their car, and after threatening Kieryn this very man had disappeared into thin air. Though no matter what answers she gave them, she would be taking the fall. Because the reality was that she was responsible for everything that had happened there. She was responsible for her sister's life being in jeopardy.

And the only conclusion she could draw from all of these revelations was that everyone's lives there, in her small, beloved hometown of Petoskey, would be better off without _her_.

Kieryn slumped her back against the back door of the car, letting her butt fall to the cold ground beneath her. She coiled her frail arms around her legs, tugging them tight to her chest. She then rested her forehead upon her knees, feeling a sharp chill settle in around her lower back.

It wasn't long before the tears came, trailing down her pallid cheeks in an uncontrollable stream. Sobs were heaving from her throat, so strongly and so frantically that it felt as though she would choke with each one. Her hands balled into tight fists and she banged them hard upon the dirt beneath her, hissing in utter rage. Rage at the man who'd jumped out before their car. Rage at _Dean_.

But most importantly, rage at herself.

In the moments she waited there before the ambulance arrived, Kieryn made one final decision. A decision that wouldn't change no matter what happened to her or her sister.

Once she knew that Emerson was going to be okay, Kieryn would leave. Disappearing would be her only option. Retreating far, far away from this town, from these people. Somewhere where she could no longer hurt anyone, ever again. Her sister would miss her at first, but she would learn with time that it was the right thing.

Because after all; Kieryn was right. Everyone and everything would be better off without her.


	28. Discoveries

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

The first thing that Sam noticed as Dean's car rolled up aside the curb lining the girls' home was the absence of one vital aspect; Em's car. Sam was positive that they'd both left the lakefront in the old Mustang a few hours earlier, yet evidence they'd even made it home at all was nonexistent as the brothers strolled up the short path toward the front door of the home.

Dean had been the last to leave the house that night and of course, being in his hurry, had not locked the front door. Hell, he hadn't even managed to push the door to a full close. This was merely another sign that the girls' hadn't yet made it home, as the door was still partially ajar, beckoning their entrance.

"Dean,-" Sam muttered, knowing full well already that his suspicions had been correct. This thought pushed many more worries to the surface, the most prominent being; _if they're not here, then where are they? _He didn't want to think of all the possible answers to this question, as some were too frightening to even consider.

"I know," Dean murmured, his newly sprouted worries a somewhat identical capacity to the anxiety and fear that clung in the atmosphere around them.

"Where are they?" Sam asked, a painful voicing that leaked of unmistakable regret.

Dean scoffed, shoving past his brother in annoyance. Why was Sam asking him such a question? As if he would have the answer! Dean truly wished he did, but instead the only response he could offer his brother was a short grunt of reproval, followed by a cynical remark that depicted perfectly his terror over their current situation. "How the _hell_ would I know, Sam?"

Sam watched as Dean strolled hurriedly through the familiar darkened hallway of the girls' home, following silently behind. Dean began his ascent up the staircase without even an ounce of hesitation nor a glance over his shoulder and Sam couldn't help but wonder about the thoughts pounding around his brother's mind in that moment. What exactly was Dean expecting to find on the second story of the house?

When Sam entered a room to the right of the upstairs hallway that Dean had strolled into moments earlier, he was met with a scene he hadn't expected in the slightest. It was Kieryn's bedroom; he recognised it from the one time he'd been in that very room little over a week before. That time he'd been searching for Sulfur, yet all information he'd gathered from the room was a few papers bearing Kieryn's name and the conclusion that it was indeed her room.

The room was an unbelievable mess. A mass of blankets lay centre of the room, mounted in a heap of yellow-stained sheets and duvets as though kicked from the bed onto the floor. The bed was clear of blankets altogether, adorned with only one rustled sheet at the foot of it. On the floor, various items were scattered over the cream carpet to leave a trail of papers, books, ornaments, clothes and more. What looked to be a bedside table was no longer at the bedside, instead it was shoved over, it's contents spilled onto the ground messily alongside it. A fallen over lamp, too, its paper lampshade slightly crumpled as though it had been treaded on.

"Yikes," Sam mumbled, sending Dean a sceptical look. "Kieryn's a restless sleeper, for sure."

"Yeah…" Dean murmured, failing to catch his brother's curious gaze.

"Unless,-" Sam began, beginning to draw his own conclusions from the sight before them as Dean was shuffling through the duvets on the floor in search of something. "What exactly did you and Kieryn get up to last night?"

"Shut up," was all Dean responded with. Soon after, he finally came across a familiar device, plucking his cell phone from the floor and glancing frantically at the display. He ignored Sam's inward chuckles resonating from behind him, his nose screwed up in annoyance. Noticing he'd had three missed calls from Emerson, he silenced his brother with a petulant glare before pressing the redial number on his phone and bringing the receiver to his ear.

"Dean?" Came a frantic voicing through the speaker, so loud and so frenzied that the sudden impact of it almost made Dean jump in surprise.

He recognised the voice instantly, a voice to which he'd _stupidly_ fallen asleep to only five hours earlier. His rash actions from that night were what had put them in this entire mess and for that, he hated himself. "Kieryn?" he replied, his voice sharing a matching amount of frenzy as hers had. "Where are you?"

"The hospital," she answered.

Dean spun around in shock, only to bump his forehead into his brother's hard jaw, as he had been trying to listen in over Dean's shoulder without his knowledge. Sam's eyes were widened to an identical diameter as Dean's, an indication alone that he'd heard what Kieryn had said.

"What happened?"

"There was a ma-" the words were cut short suddenly and Dean could hear through the receiver the few spoken words of another voice, muffled and inaudible to him. When Kieryn's voice poured through the receiver once more, there was less of an urgency to them. "We hit a deer. Swerved off the road into a tree. I'm fine, but Em's unconscious. The doctor said her stitches ripped in the accident, so she lost a lot of blood."

"We're on the way," Dean said simply, storming out of the chaotic bedroom and down the hallway. He could sense Sam's presence lingering behind him but didn't even bother to look back for assurance.

Kieryn's foot tapped against the tiled floor in perfect sync with the ticking of the waiting room clock. It seemed as though with every tick, the world around her evaporated just an ounce more, and she feared that soon she would be unaware of her surroundings completely. Though a worrying concept as it was, she didn't try to tune away from the continuous clicking, as she thought that being totally unaware of her current drastic situation _must_ be better than the way she was feeling then.

How long had she been waiting? It felt like hours. Though when she glanced out of the small window to her left, the sky seemed not to have brightened. It must still be early, she concluded with dismay.

This was the second time she'd been inside this hospital in just over 24 hours. The second time she'd awaited nervously for the news on her sister's recovery. The doctors were with her now, not allowing her to watch as they examined her beat-up state.

Kieryn ducked her face into her palms, struggling to rub away the newly forming tears. She couldn't think about the pain she'd inflicted upon her poor sister just yet. She had to think about the outcome. _Emerson was going to be fine_. That was all that mattered, in the end.

"Excuse me, Mam?"

Kieryn looked up to see a young, female nurse hovering above her, a dreadfully fake concern riddling her widened blue eyes. "What?" Kieryn murmured, in the most unfriendly manner possible. She wasn't in the mood for being polite.

"I need to examine you now. We need to make certain you're in tip-top shape before allowing you to leave, I'm afraid."

"You think I'm just going to leave?" Kieryn muttered, glancing up at the nurse incredulously. "My sister is fighting for her life, yet you're worried about me ditching?"

"It's standard procedure, Mam." The nurse looked slightly nervous, her pale hands trembling the slightest. Kieryn noticed her etch the tiniest step backward and almost smiled to herself in triumph.

"Would you stop calling me _Mam_?"

"Kieryn, give the poor nurse a break. Just let her examine you, for God's sake."

The sound of a man's voice caused Kieryn's head to turn to the side, eyes widened in shock. Sam and Dean were standing at the doorway of the E.R. waiting room. Kieryn couldn't help but notice the smug manner in which Dean held himself; his arms folded over his chest, iniquitous smirk plastered to his handsome face.

"…haha, that rhymed."

Kieryn, now slightly flustered, glanced back at the nurse, a reluctant smile beginning to develop on her lips. The nurse was watching the brothers curiously and it was evident to Kieryn how utterly uncomfortable the woman was beginning to feel.

"Fine," Kieryn obliged finally, standing from her chair, much to the young nurse's surprise.

"Right this w-way," the nurse stuttered, leading Kieryn through a pair of double doors toward a stall with an empty bed. "Lie down, please Mam."

Kieryn had to restrain from cursing at the poor nurse for calling her _Mam_ again, instead stretching her body across the thin mattress, her head resting slowly down onto the pillow. She watched as the young nurse tugged the curtain across, enclosing the pair in what could now be considered a tiny room.

"Right, now Ms O'Riley, how are you feeling?"

"How am I _feeling_?" Kieryn asked disbelievingly, and the nurse sighed. "Can you just clear me already and let me see my sister?"

The nurse let out another loud sigh, obviously far past frustrated. "Mam, I believe you have a concussion from the crash. I suggest you go home and get some rest."

"Thanks, but I think _sleeping _is the last thing I should be doing right now," Kieryn murmured, the hint of a smirk gracing her lips. The nurse merely shrugged in defeat, reopening the curtain and leading her back out into the waiting room.

Sam and Dean were there, each rigid in their seats, their heads shooting up in unison as Kieryn cleared her throat at the entranceway.

"Kieryn, what's going on?" Sam asked. Despite it being Sam who had spoken, Kieryn couldn't help her gaze lingering over to the elder brother beside him, a wash of heat creeping over her cheeks as she reminisced the things they had done together only five or six hours earlier.

"Kier?" Sam repeated, his tone implying that he was beginning to grow the slightest bit frustrated with her lack of a reply. "What happened?"

"I-I told you. We crashed the car."

"Is that all?" Dean spoke up, the sound of his voice only bringing back even more memories of the night before.

_No_. Kieryn thought. _I was then threatened by a psychotic yellow-eyed man who referred to me as his 'child' and implied that I have paranormal abilities I must learn to harness._

"Yes," she confirmed. "That's all."

Realizing she was still standing idly at the entrance of the tiny waiting room, she strolled toward the pair, hesitating for a moment before seating herself down on the chair beside Dean.

"Do you remember anything from when you were sleep-walking?" Sam asked.

_God, this is beginning to sound like some sort of interrogation, _Kieryn thought, huffing out a loud sigh. She scanned her memory the best she could for thoughts that didn't include feelings of Dean's bare skin against her own, her mind suddenly landing on a familiar name.

"Markus Trengrove," she blurted out. "Markus Trengrove. Whoever the fuck that is."

Kieryn noticed the brothers exchanging knowing glances with one another before Dean spoke. "So it's a spirit, after all. As if the ectoplasm wasn't confirmation enough."

"Huh?"

"Markus Trengrove died three months ago," Sam explained. "Each of the three men you,-hurt-were friends of his."

"Okay, yeah?" Kieryn queried, urging for the man to continue.

"Well, you see, Markus' death wasn't all that normal. In fact, he was found by his wife, slaughtered in their living room. Slit throat, missing heart and all."

"Son of a bitch," Dean murmured, Sam's words being totally new information to not only Kieryn, but him too.

"So… The ghost of Markus Trengrove is controlling me?"

Sam nodded, his lips pursed. "But not for much longer."

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><p><em>Hey everyone. I am so so so sorry for the wait. I really, truly am. I feel horrible about leaving you waiting for such a long time! In fact, I'm posting the next chapter straight after I post this, just to make up for that horribly long wait. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! I would love for you to drop a review before you go, because I really, desperately need some form of feedback or constructive criticism to keep me working on this. Anyway, thanks guys, I hope you enjoyed!<em>


	29. Graveyards

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

"I hate graveyards," Kieryn muttered, her hands shoved deep inside the pockets of her tan coat.

"Funny that," Dean murmured, his voice resonating through the darkened air around them. "Most people seem to quite enjoy graveyards. Especially at night."

Dean trekked through the maze of headstones, the beam of his torch leading he and Kieryn's trail. The aim of this procedure? Markus Trengrove's grave. After finding the source of the murders, it was only natural that they should think to torch the remains, therefore preventing the spirit from connecting with Kieryn in her sleep ever again. Sam and Dean had thoroughly explained the whole ordeal to the redhead before she'd insisted on coming along. A week ago, Dean wouldn't have been able to think of anything worse than being alone in a graveyard with the girl. But now? Now he rather enjoyed the company.

"Guess I'm not _most people_, then, huh?" Kieryn grunted, smiling cunningly to herself. "Funny that."

"Yeah, that's not exactly new knowledge. _Most people_ don't brutally murder men in their sleep-"

"Don't even start!" Kieryn chuckled, shoving him in the shoulder with a clenched fist. Despite the humorous conversation, Kieryn couldn't help her thoughts lingering back to her sister. Emerson, after the crash early that morning, had been taken into surgery. When it was finally over, at around 2pm that afternoon, the doctors had informed her that Em's condition was serious, and recovery could take some time. But the overall consensus was that she would live. She was expected to sleep through the rest of the night.

Kieryn shook her head, quickly swiping a finger past her eyes to rid the forming tears. Dean hadn't noticed, thankfully. His attention seemed fixated on the task at hand; locating the grave of Markus Trengrove. The idea still seemed absurd to Kieryn. Torching a corpse? Although when she reminisced all the other crazy things she had seen and heard over the past few weeks of knowing Sam and Dean, this didn't seem so outrageous at all.

"There it is," Dean said suddenly, breaking the crisp silence that had overcome them. He stumbled over to one of the larger headstones around them, immediately positioning his torch atop of it so that the beam shone perfectly across the patch of grass before the grave.

"Ready?" Dean asked, smirking as he looked up at the girl. He held out one of the spades he'd been carrying toward her, waiting for the girl to relieve him of it. Her ivory skin shone with a golden glow in the moon's luminance, and Dean couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face as he watched her.

The smile seemed to evaporate however, as soon as she shook her head smugly, plopping herself down onto the grass and folding her arms and legs, nodding casually toward the spade in his hand. "Go on, then," she chuckled. "Better get to work, eh."

"I hate you," Dean muttered under his breath, tossing one of the spades onto the ground in front of her before turning around and thrusting his spade deep into the earth's surface in the centre of the spot that was lit up by the torch beam.

Dean heard her chuckling from behind him but refused to turn around and look at her. "Whatever!" he heard her say, and just through the word he could sense the cunning smile gracing her lips.

"Why'd you insist on coming along if you're not even going to help?"

Kieryn gulped nervously at the question, pulling her knees up to her chest and curling her arms around her slim legs. She knew exactly the reason, though it probably wasn't the answer he would expect. Why on Earth _would_ she insist on taking part in digging up and torching a stinking old corpse? As much as she would have liked to deny it, she couldn't. It was because of Dean. She was here because of him; not only because she wanted to spend time alone with him, but because she wanted to prove that she could be a part of his world, that she wasn't _afraid._ Because _this_ was his world, after all. And who knew what would happen once this corpse had been destroyed? Would they just leave? Work is over, time to move on. Somehow Kieryn found herself hoping that they would stay, though she knew that thought was even more absurd than the concept of salting and burning a set of bones.

"Kier?"

Dean's voice snapped her away from her thoughts, and she glanced up quickly to see the man staring down at her, his widened eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

She merely shook her head, pushing herself to her feet. "Pass me that spade, would ya?"

Sam flicked through the papers before him for what seemed to be the 100th time that day. With Kieryn and Dean scouring the graveyard and Emerson in hospital, Sam had been given the delightful duty of research. By _himself._ He knew that something about the case _still _wasn't adding up, yet he couldn't seem to figure it out. What was the old priest's connection to Markus Trengrove? How could they have found Sulfur at the third crime scene if no demons were involved? But most significantly, _why_ had the spirit chosen Kieryn to act through?

Nothing seemed to make sense.

Sam slammed his fist down upon the motel room table, producing a loud creak.

"I give up," he muttered to himself, leaning back on the creaky motel bed. Progress _had_ been made, and that thought brought his mood up a little. Sam had come to the assumption that Markus Trengrove's spirit was punishing those associated with his death. It was safe enough to presume that Ian Donahue, Jason Magnus and Brian McGregor had all had some part to play in the man's unusual death, and Sam decided that that information alone would have to be enough. The priest was safe. So who cares?

And that only meant one thing. The case was over. It was time for he and his brother to move on.

This thought was a strangely depressing one to Sam.

"I think its safe enough to say that Markus Trengrove won't be bothering you ever again," Dean said smugly, dusting off his hands as he and Kieryn stood and watched the flames before them envelope all that was left of the man's remains.

It seemed almost cruel, torching one of the only existing physical reminders of a man. But after all, his spirit _had_ forced her to brutally murder 3 men. This was merely just payback, as well as prevention.

"Guess you'll be able to sleep easy tonight."

Kieryn wanted to believe Dean's words. Only she knew that for as long as she lived, she'd never rest easy ever again. She would always be haunted with the thought that it could happen again, at any time. Eliminating one spirit wasn't going to change the fact that something was wrong with her. The yellow-eyed man had said it for himself; that these murders were only the beginning. There were more to come.

"Kier?"

"Hmm?" Kieryn glanced up to meet the concern-ridden eyes of the man beside her.

"It's over."

Kieryn nodded. "I know. The case is over. Time for you and Sam to move on, right?"

"Right."

Kieryn swore she witnessed an ounce of regret cross the handsome man's face. "It's never going to be over," she muttered, glancing down at her feet.

Dean swallowed, his brows furrowing in confusion. If anything, Kieryn should be relieved. Markus Trengrove's spirit was gone. Emerson was going to be okay. Everything had panned out alright in the end. "What do you mean?" he mumbled.

"The first time it happened, when I was in college. I murdered a girl in my dorm. Now you can't tell me that was because of the same spirit! Because this Markus dude wasn't even dead then. This first time, it happened because of a different spirit, right? If two spirits have had their way with me already, then who's to say there won't be more?" Kieryn sucked in a deep breath, watching the flames beginning to die down before them.

"If that happens, then I guess Sam and I will just have to come back," Dean offered, before chuckling lightly. "Oh, what a torture."

"There's one more thing," Kieryn said, after the two had gathered the spades and petrol and began their trek back through the deserted cemetery.

"Yeah?"

"That priest that I almost killed. He saw me. And he's accusing me, right? It's only a matter of time before somebody spots me and the police get a hold of me."

Instantly, Dean was flooded with memories of the previous night. Kieryn was right. When Sam and Dean had taken the priest to the hospital he'd raved the entire way about the crazy redhead who'd kidnapped him. With no doubt, the police would be getting a sketch artist in in no time. Kieryn wouldn't be safe in Petoskey for much longer.

"Let's just worry about that shit in the morning," Dean said with a chuckle, though the attempt at breaking the tension was weak.

The car ride back to Kieryn's home was painfully silent, despite the loud music resonating from the speakers. Neither of them wanted to speak. Neither of them had anything to say, anyway. What could be said in such a situation?

When Dean pulled the Impala up alongside the curb, Kieryn shuffled to undo her seatbelt, before turning to face the man in the drivers seat.

"Please don't go."

Dean was shocked at her blatant display of emotions. But he didn't tease her with a snide comment like he usually would have, he didn't snicker or pull a face of disgust. He merely nodded, unclipping his seatbelt and following her up the steps of the familiar house.

The moment he stepped inside, he was welcomed with the recent memories of he and Kieryn's night alone here not at all long ago. He smirked, following the redhead into the kitchen and dining room and setting himself at one of the bar stools lining the bench while she migrated towards the fridge.

"A coffee would be good right about now," he said, a cunning smirk plastered to his smug face.

Kieryn turned away from the fridge to shoot the man a petulant glare. "Is that right?" Much to her annoyance, she couldn't help the smile forming on her face in that moment. Despite her sarcastic remark, Kieryn found herself pouring boiling water into two mugs, stirring the contents of each until she was content that the coffee had dissolved.

However, in her distracted state, as she was delivering the mug to the man at the bench she staggered clumsily, spilling the contents onto Dean.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed, swiping at the spot where the hot liquid had hit his shirt. It took a moment before he realized that Kieryn was laughing hysterically, and the next instant he was laughing too.

Kieryn wasn't sure why she found the situation so amusing. It wasn't even all that funny, though it felt good to release some of the stress she'd been burdened with over the past few weeks.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Dean grunted, examining the new dark stain that covered his grey t-shirt. When he glanced up, he realized that Kieryn had stopped laughing and was watching him silently, her face only a few centimetres from his.

Kieryn leaned up quickly, taking Dean's lips in her own for a moment. She smiled as she kissed him, reminiscing their time together the previous night. Their actions had been rash and probably even _stupid_ at the time, but Kieryn couldn't help but want to refresh her memory of the touch of his toned skin against hers.

* * *

><p><em>AN: **Don't forget to drop a review on your way out!** Thanks. Hope you enjoyed!_


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